


Welcome to the House!

by Masterpwn



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Monsters, Mystery, Romance, Swearing, mild violence, potentially disturbing imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-03-07 07:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3166358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterpwn/pseuds/Masterpwn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Multiple people who have never met each other are selected by a secret organization for unknown reasons and forced to survive in the most terrible place they have ever been in full of traps and monsters. It will take their best to stay alive and find out the truth, but the house will try everything to kill them. Is escape even possible? Will anyone even survive this?</p><p>10 go in, 1 comes out... Or so they say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introducing Our Newest Contestants!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all its characters and creations are property of the BBC. All views expressed in this work of fiction are not views of any real world people, they belong to the author alone. The characters themselves are intended to be fictitious, and likeness to anyone is not intentional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A totally innocent prompt gone dark in my twisted mind.
> 
> Not beta-d, so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> No character is going to directly kill or intentionally indirectly kill another character.
> 
> **Story Warnings for: Mild Violence, Major Character Death, Potentially Disturbing Imagery, Language**

**Welcome to the House! Introducing our newest contestants!**

A voice startles everyone in the room from a light slumber. They begin to get up.

**We have, John "The Doctor" Smith!**

A man in a leather jacket rises up from the ground, wondering how in the hell he got there. He looks around and sees a multitude of other equally confused looking people getting up. A bright light enshrouds him for a moment, high-lighting him as his presence is announced. It fades and the voice continues.

**We have, James McCrimmon!**

Another man, wearing a brown pin-stripe suit stands as well. Readjusting a magnificent sweeping duster, he looks at the people who are joining him on his two feet. He squints through the light shined in his face, blocking him from examining his surroundings.

**We have, shrouded in mystery, "The Caretaker"!**

Straightening his bow tie and brushing dust off of his tweed jacket, he scans the area. It's very dark and he can't see farther than the group of people around him. There's a plush carpet beneath him. He's particularly unfazed by the light blasted in his face.

**We have, the "Bad Wolf" Rose Tyler!**

The blonde woman covers her ears as the announcer's voice booms overhead. She's got bad enough of a headache as it is without the noise and light.

**We have, Martha Jones!**

The beautiful dark-skinned woman cringes in annoyance as the loud voice exaggerates the 'o' in her last name, making it unnecessarily long. She squints as her eyes are afflicted by the rapid changes in brightness.

**We have, Donna Noble!**

The red-head hates the way he changes the tone in his voice up and down as he says her name. In one of those rare moments, she keeps her mouth shut, listening as the rest of the group are introduced.

**We have, Amelia Pond!**

The Scottish woman with the flaming hair and attitude doesn't stay quiet, especially since the 'o' in her name is stupidly exaggerated too. "It's Amy whoever you are!" she yells. Her voice is ignored.

**We have, Rory Williams!**

The mild mannered nurse cringes too. Apparently fuelled by Amy's outburst, the strange voice holds out every single vowel in his name.

**We have, River Song!**

The magnificent, bushy curls of her hair bounce about as she shakes her head and scowls The disembodied voice really has a thing for holding out the o's.

**And, last but not least, we have the Impossible Clara Oswald!**

The petite brunette seems to be the sole exception to o stretching, since it was clipped short in an attempt to start the s faster, but the voice held onto all the a's desperately instead, so it wasn't a positive trade off. Finally the light illuminating her stops, and her eyes begin adjusting to the dark once more.

Turns out she doesn't need to. The voice is silent for a moment as all the lights snap on, revealing a rather extravagant room. Everyone stops examining each other to look about the room in varied degrees of annoyance, awe, curiosity, boredom, and/or displeasure. Only the woman whom the voice called "River Song" truly looks bored. Like she's snatched from normal life and dropped into unknown places all the time.

**We all knows the rules, but our contestants might not! So let me explain.**

They all stop looking around and pay absolute attention.

**Your one and only rule: Survive.**

The whole group becomes concerned at this statement, but very few of them show it. River still looks bored.

**From what, you will find out. There may be monsters, there may be traps, you may have to fear your very rivals in this room. Only time will tell, but this much is certain, ten will enter and only one will leave. Good luck contestants, for the House is already plotting your deaths.**

The ten people look at each other, not saying a word, as the very building wakes up around them.

—————————————————————

"Well," begins one James McCrimmon loudly, getting everyone's attention, "Might as well get to know each other better than just our names, as it seems we are stuck in a very dangerous situation."

Rose tentatively moves towards a long table in the centre of the room. Around it are ten chairs and a meal is piled high on silver plates. She finds a place and sits. "Join me?" she asks the group.

Grudgingly, they move to join her. There's a brief test of wills between the "Caretaker" and John for the chair at the head of the table since the one on the other side was immediately taken by River. Eventually, John wins out and sits, Caretaker taking the seat on his right. Rose is sitting on his left, and the rest of the group picks out their spots at random.

After an uncomfortable silence, Clara speaks up. "Think the food's safe?"

"Good question," says John.

The Caretaker grabs an apple and turns it over in his hands. He carefully examines its surface, sniffs it, and pokes it several times. Then he takes a bite, slowly chewing and swallowing. "Well, if I wind up dead, then you'll know," he says without concern in his voice.

"That... That is..." Martha, being appalled by his blatant disregard for his welfare, finds herself at a loss for words.

Rory sort of sticks his hand in the air. "I'm a nurse, so I might be able to help," he pauses for a moment. "I'd need some equipment though."

Martha glances up. "I'm a doctor," she says, then looks at Rory. "Not trying to outdo you or anything."

Rory shakes his head. "It's fine, we'll work well together then."

She nods, then turns to John. "You were introduced as the Doctor, would you actually happen to be one?"

"PhD, but not in medicine," he replies.

Martha looks around the table. "May seem silly, but what are your professions?" she asks.

James pipes up. "Same as him, not medicine," he says, nodding to John, "PhD in astrophysics, science things of that sort."

Rose looks around slightly sheepishly. "I work in a shop."

"Not the only one without a Doctorate, I'm just a temp," Donna states without enthusiasm.

"Schoolteacher," says Clara.

They look at River.

She doesn't speak for a while. "Professor Song, archeology," she finally says.

The Caretaker cocks his head. "Didn't you do that one dig near Cairo, discovered a hidden tomb or something?"

She smiles. "Yes. 842 sarcophagi, very few in tact though. A lot of them were simply wood, nearly 300 of them were animals as well. Only found 23 human that weren't rotted or destroyed in some way. Water tower of some date farmer had been leaking into the tunnels for years."

He nods. "Still impressive."

She shrugs. "They were Romans, hardly so."

Rory makes a sound of indignation. "Nothing wrong with Romans. They were a powerful empire."

She smirks. "Should've stayed out of Egypt."

He scowls, but doesn't argue further.

They turn to Amy expectingly.

She rolls her eyes. "Kissogram."

Nobody seems fazed in any degree, so she shrugs.

"And you?" asks Martha, looking to the man in the tweed jacket.

He just shakes his head and remains silent.

"Blimey," starts Rose, "Really playing up the 'mystery', aren't we?"

He smiles and continues his silence.

James speaks next. "So, something rather pressing, anyone have any idea about our current situation?"

"Well, I was just working really. Helping a customer then... then just this," says Rose, confusion on her face and in her voice.

Rory chimes in. "Just working too, don't remember how I got here."

Everyone gives similar answers.

"Anyone have any idea as to what to do next?"

A chorus of "no"s and the shaking of heads is the unfortunate reply from everyone but River, the Caretaker, John, and James, who asked the question to begin with.

He nods. "In that case, maybe we should just investigate our surroundings. Stick together."

River gets up, ignores his advice, and stalks towards the nearest exit, an old wooden door that looks as though it might lead to a basement, making this the ground floor. Stairs lead upwards from the next room over, so it must be a multi-story house though.

John rises. "I'm going to the next room over, it looks like a mud room. Anyone with me?"

Rose stands as well. She looks around but everyone else seems hesitant. John starts towards the archway leading to the entrance hall wordlessly and Rose quickly follows.

James rises next. "Wait a moment."

John pauses, giving Rose time to catch up.

"We'll all meet back here soon, got a watch?"

"Yes," replies John.

The Caretaker holds up his arm in response, showing off a very expensive looking piece.

"Meet here in an hour?"

"Fine," replies John curtly. "Coming Rose?"

She moves up next to him. "Yeah, right behind you."

They exit.

Martha stands and moves around the table to join him. "I'll stick by you then."

Donna follows her example. "Me too Spaceman."

"Spaceman?" he says, a priceless look of confusion and indignation on his face.

"Yeah," she replies, "All the astro stuff. That's got to do with space, right?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah, but you don't need to call me spaceman."

"Well, you look like a Martian with your hair all over the place."

"Spaceman it is," he says with a resigned sigh. "Let's head up those stairs in the next room over."

He leaves and they follow.

"Just us left then," states Amy as she gets up.

Rory stands up and pushes his chair in behind him.

The Caretaker doesn't want to pair up with anyone, alone is better, but the four of them are all that's left.

Clara, Amy, Rory, and he follow the previous three to head up the stairs.

As they make it to the next room, Clara stops by John and Rose.

"Should I stay with you guys? So every group has three?" she asks.

Rose was about to say what a good idea that would be when John interrupts.

"No, we're fine," he moves up next to Rose, standing a little closer than absolutely necessary. "Better with two."

Clara nods, not wanting to cross him. The man looks as though he's stormed the gates of hell and destroyed it all. Devil, demons, and everything. She moves up the stairs, right after Rory.

Rose turns to John. He simply turns his head, piercing blue eyes locking to hers.

She gives him a tongue-in-teeth smile. "Better with two?" she asks curiously.

He turns away, but not before she catches the hint of a smile.

—————————————————————

The stairs are plush, soaking up every sound. A red velvet carpet covers dark wood which is polished to shine under the bright light from the electric chandeliers. The three of them ascend soundlessly, turning right when the wide path splits in a T, and continue up the narrower set as the four behind them turn left. It's irrelevant which way one turns going up however, because everything on the second floor seems connected by the circular balcony around the chandelier that illuminates both floors. On the side, shelves cover every inch of wall-space and are crammed full of books of all sizes and colours.

The rails around the circle in the floor are the same polished dark wood. The elegant wood paneling of the same shade runs halfway up the walls before giving way to mahogany wall paper covered in patterns. The two are separated by a long strip of lighter coloured wood and the quarter rounds are extravagantly patterned. The lighting perfectly accents everything. A cushion covered bench fills a nook under a window. James goes up to the window but can see nothing but blackness outside.

The group off four climb another flight only accessible from that side and disappear from view. Donna and Martha spread out among the floor, looking around the shelves and over and under tables. Counter tops along the walls of the other side of the room are adorned with a selection of foods and alcoholic beverages of many kinds. Wine, scotch, vodka, whiskey, you name it, it was on tables, counters, and racks along with many fine crystal glasses. Some bottles had dust on them, others were more recent. The food, mostly cheeses and breads, looked fresh, and several coolers of ice are sitting on the floor.

He turns his attention back to the window. It seems that the window isn't just dark because it's night out, it's pitch black. Like it was spray painted over.

Suddenly, the whole house groans and creaks as if it was battered by strong winds. John keeps his eyes locked on the window, and for a moment something flashes in it. Something like a face, but too quick to be certain. He turns away to find Donna and Martha looking all around. Just as suddenly as it began, the the house stops making noise.

They hear a short scream from downstairs, and the three of them lock eyes for only a moment before they all rush for the stairs.

—————————————————————

River did not feel like being part of a group, she didn't feel like sharing. What she did feel though, was the urge to find a gun, so she went off by herself to find a weapon. The old door did lead to a basement, as she had expected. She also expected no one would follow her down here because of the "terrible danger" they all seemed to be in, and who would want to be in a creepy basement full of monsters? River is used to dank and dark underground places, and nothing down here bothers her.

Rather than electrical lighting, small blazing torches are in sconces along the wall. The flickering cast strange shadows over the crates, barrels, shelves, and other sorts of things for storage. Rolled up carpets lean against support beams. The occasional oil lamp hangs from the rafters. Someone must've been down here recently, otherwise none of these would be lit.

She begins popping tops off of barrels and crates as well as glancing over the shelves. She finds silverware, salted meat still lying among the white-ish grains, fresh vegetables, canned food, a box of tools. Endless useless baubles and junk. She finds a crude machete and claims it at once. It is a bit dull, so she grabs a nearby iron tool to sharpen it on.

She hears a grand creaking from above, whatever it is, it must be loud. All the torches flicker in a short breeze. There must be an exterior cellar door. Excited with the prospect and a newly sharpened weapon, she moves again as the noise from above stops to find a way out.

—————————————————————

The group of four climbs the second set of stairs. The case opens up into a hallway that ends in a large black window which would be above the main entrance. It's decorated with chairs and an end table with a clay pot of flowers and an empty silver bowl. The hallway splits in a cross shape and Rory and Amy go right while the Caretaker and Clara go left.

"Is there something else I can call you?" asks Clara. "The Caretaker is going to get annoying."

He's quiet for a moment. "Theta. Call me Theta."

Clara cocks her head ever so slightly. "Unusual."

"That was my nickname back in the Gallifrey Academy. Theta Sigma."

She nods. "Theta it is. Gallifrey Academy though... Is that in Ireland?"

"Something like that," he says as he opens a door on their right, revealing a dusty, cobweb filled room with spare furniture. He closes it again.

The house creaks loudly, but they ignore it. Old houses creak, don't they?

She opens the opposite door to reveal a large room full of...

"Bunk beds!" cries Theta gleefully.

All the sheets are fine silk, elaborately decorated with gold trim, but the five bunk beds are still bunk beds. Those and trunks at the end of them take up them majority of the space.

"Really?" she asks dubiously.

He flings himself upon a bottom bunk. "Bunk beds are cool, Clara Oswald."

Suddenly a scream is heard from downstairs and he hops up and rushes from the room, Clara right behind him. They meet the other two in the hall and they turn to rush down the stairs.

—————————————————————

The first thing John notices upon walking into the room was the fact that where a door once was, a solid wall of bare red bricks has taken its place. Rose walks up beside him and sighs in exasperation. The archway opposite the one they just came from appears to enter into a sitting room, as plush and royal looking seating as well as a grand marble fireplace claims the majority of the room.

"Now what?" asks Rose in annoyance.

"Let's keep looking around," he says, equally irked.

The two groups pass by them and they both move past the grand staircase and through the arch into the sitting room.

Shelves of books line free wall-space. John moves over the them and begins examining the spines.

"Some advanced reading here," he announces. He runs his fingers over a particular title, Handbook of Space Astronomy and Astrophysics. He's always been interested in these kinds of things, but pursued a career in history and became a professor of it at a university.

He turns to Rose when she she makes a pleased "ooh" sound. She was currently holding a battered copy of Oliver Twist in her hands.

In their excitement, they don't notice the groan of wood as the house shifts something deep within it.

He smiles. "Fan of Dickens?"

She nods wordlessly, flipping through the first few pages.

"I'm his biggest fan," he announces with a grin.

Smiling, Rose moves over to a free space and leans against a wall. A wall that quickly fell back and dumped Rose into darkness with a scream that was quickly cut off.

John dives forward in a futile attempt to keep her from falling.

"Rose!" he cries as the wall slaps shut again. He cautiously approaches the space where she disappeared, and nothing happens. He pushes on the wall and a collection of swift footsteps come rushing down the stairs and into the room he's in.

"What happened?" inquires Martha.

"Rose... She just- the wall- the..." he takes a deep breath. "The wall opened up and she fell back," he gives the wall another shove and kicks it for good measure, hard enough to feel it through his sturdy boots. "It won't open again!" he yells in anger.

James moves forward to try gingerly stepping on floorboards and pushing certain planks on the wall. Then he pulls back. "I got nothing."

Clara looks to the Caretaker. "Can you figure something out Theta?"

People express silently confusion at his new title, but he carries on without caring.

He glares at empty space for a moment while he speaks. "What was she doing before she disappeared?"

"She leaned on the wall with a book."

He moves over and grabs a random book before returning to the wall. He waves. "Wish me luck," he says jovially and leans against the wall. There's a pause in which he just stands there, shoulder against it, and everyone's relieved. Then the wall splits and he half falls, half jumps into the dark. The wall snaps shut behind him before anyone can react.

There's a long moment of silence.

"That's two down." A voice behind them snaps them out of their reverie.

They all turn around to see River standing there, a machete hanging at her hip, leaning against the frame of the arch.

He shrugs her shoulders. "A shame, he was a real pretty boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "WELCOME TO THE HOUSE."
> 
> The House is a reality show where contestants are placed in a large house and challenged to live with one another. In the end, there can be only one winner and with one million at stake, the competition is cut throat.
> 
> Love triangles, backstabbing, and money. Oh my!
> 
> APR 27   (1)  
>  #DOCTOR WHO  #NINE  #TEN  #ELEVEN  #RIVER  #AMY  #RORY  #DONNA  #MARTHA  #CLARA  #MISC  #NR  #TR  #TDR  #EDR  #EA  #ER  #TM  #TD  #PROMPT  #AU  #I THINK IT'S A QUOTE FROM THE SHOW BUT I'M TOO LAZY TO CHECK
> 
> Prompt from doctorwhoficpromtps.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> In my head I saw this:
> 
> "WELCOME TO THE HOUSE."
> 
> The House is a reality show where contestants are placed in The Mansion and challenged to survive in a house reminiscent to Hell. In the end, there can be only one winner and with everything at stake, the competition is more than cut throat.
> 
> Murder, backstabbing, and monsters. Oh my!


	2. Cheesy Haunted House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta-d, all mistakes are mine.

He lands awkwardly on a steep metal chute, possibly injuring his ankle, and practically flies down it.

"Wheee!" he calls out into nothingness.

He hadn't expected the fall to be so steep. After a few seconds, the slide evens out until it's nearly horizontal and then he flies off the end, landing hard on cold stone. He gets up, ignoring the throbbing of his ankle and shoulder, and looks around. He can see nothing.

"Rose?" he calls into the dark.

A small single note whimper responds.

"That you?" he asks softly.

Finally a quiet, "Yeah," reaches him.

"Keep talking, are you hurt?"

She starts mumbling. "I think so. I mean, I didn't expect it," she pauses. "Slid down head first. I'm really dizzy, I think I hit my head."

The Doctor locates the source of the sound and kneels down. She seems to be leaning against a wall in the corner. 

He reaches out and comes in contact with her arm. It's sticky.

She sharply inhales and he swiftly withdrawals his hand.

This time she reaches out, he feels the tips of her fingers against his chest and he scoots forward. Eventually he winds up sitting next to her.

"Can you walk?" he asks gently.

"I don't know."

He considers this. "We'll sit here for a while then."

"Yeah," she says. A pause follows, then she lays her head on his shoulder. "Did you get hurt falling?"

"No," he lies, ignoring the throbbing of his ankle. It may be sprained.

"You sure?"

He smiles somewhat. "It was a bit of a rough landing, but you worry about you." He feels her nod.

Normally he wouldn't care for anyone. He lost faith in humanity a long time ago, when he lost everything. Something about her though made him toss aside everything he recently stood for and jump in to help her. Sure, he did it in his normal reckless way, but he did it all the same.

He wonders about something. "Why are you called Bad Wolf?"

She stiffens imperceptibly. The truth is her father runs a top secret organisation and that's her code name. "A co-worker gave me that nick-name," she says. This too is mostly true, it was suggested by her good friend Mickey Smith, but it was first turned down by command. Later she insisted because she really liked it, so it stuck. What she doesn't understand is how whoever trapped her there knows her code name. She prays to everything that it isn't Torchwood that's done this. One thing she can't do is give away the fact that she's received serious military grade training, despite her mother's protests of course.

"Interesting."

"Why the Caretaker?" she asks.

"Wouldn't be mysterious if I explained everything."

She nods slowly, a curious smile on her face.

"You can call me Theta if you like."

"Sounds just as mysterious as 'the Caretaker'," she says, voice low, "But possibly less silly."

He smiles. "Little easier to say too, apparently."

"Just a bit."

He shifts slightly, dropping the smile from his face. His eyes have adjusted somewhat and he thinks he sees a door. "Think you can walk now?"

She gives herself a mental check over. Most of the pain has subsided. "Yeah."

He gets up and helps her stand. Wrapping his left arm protectively around her waist, he slowly guides her towards the outline of the hopefully-a-door, hiding his limp very well. He stumbles over something and hisses sharply in pain. He looks down and sees a copy of... He squints. _Oliver Twist_. He tripped over some Charles Dickens.

"You are hurt!" she scolds.

"Just surprised is all," he lies again, "Tripped over the book you dropped."

She scowls, unbeknownst to him.

Reaching out, he grasps a metal ring hanging where the doorknob should have been and yanks the door open. It opens only partway before the rotted wood disintegrates. Dim light is now spilling into the room and Rose leans on the wall while he forces the door open. Mostly it falls apart in his hands. Finally it's able to be passed and he helps her out of the room.

—————————————————————

The group stares at the wall which they disappeared into. The house suddenly shifts, wood creaking and the sound of stone grinding on stone meets their ears. The space behind the panels is filled, and the noise stops. John steps forward and knocks on the wood. It no longer sounds hollow.

"Solid," he says dejectedly.

"Is the house alive?" Amy asks no one in particular.

Rory shakes his head. "Ummm, how can a house be alive?"

"There's got to be a logical explanation. Maybe the person who put us here can shift parts of the building around us. Something mechanical, yeah?" Martha puts her idea out there, but it does little to comfort anyone.

James spins around. "That seems highly likely, just things being remotely controlled."

John taps his foot in frustration. "What about Rose?" he demands, his petulant northern accent standing out.

Donna looks to River. "Didn't you go down into that basement?"

She nods slowly.

"Is there a way down to wherever they fell?" she asks.

"How should I know?"

This response starts a scowl fest between several people. After about a minute of this, Clara breaks the silence.

"What are we going to do?"

River snorts in a very un-lady like way. "If the people who control this place are trying to kill us, it's best to assume they just died. My advice? Keep going," she pauses while everyone stares at her angrily. "And watch your back." She stalks off.

"Weeell," Amy drawls, "Drama queen much?"

She hadn't noticed that Rory was slowly scooting closer to her.

John, however, notices this and smirks. Then he moves off after River towards the basement.

Clara shakes her head to clear it. "I'm going upstairs to lie down," she announces, and proceeds to do so.

"Same," says Amy, following Clara.

Martha follows quickly after, but Rory just stands there awkwardly, feeling the need to help Rose. Eventually, he goes after John to the basement.

Donna looks over to James. "Just leaves me and you Spaceman."

He closes his eyes, slightly frustrated about his newly appointed nickname. "Yeah."

She grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him along.

"Oi!" he yelps, "What are you doing?"

"Found something upstairs that was interesting earlier."

He shakes her off his sleeve and follows her up the to the second floor.

—————————————————————

"Are you following me?" asks River, turning around to see John stomping around grumpily.

"No, we just happen to be walking in the same direction."

She looks him up and down. "Well, I don't mind if you follow me."

His scowl deepens and he storms past her just as loudly as he was doing before. He gives the basement door a tug. It doesn't budge. He tries pushing it and it gives way and he tramps down into the darkness. River moves after him, not bothering to close the door.

"Find your machete down here?" he asks.

"Yes."

He looks over the shelves, slowing down as he passes by.

"Heard some wind blowing through here earlier. Felt it a bit too, I'm thinking there must be a cellar chute somewhere that will lead outside," she tells him.

"Fantastic, go find it," he says patronisingly.

She shrugs and moves past him, soon lost in the gloom. He looks around. Torches line the walls. For all their fancy electrical lighting, they have torches and carriage lanterns down here. He takes one off the wall and holds it out before him, proceeding slowly.

Suddenly, the flame "leans" to the side somewhat, as if being blown, but there's no breeze. He notices a crack in the wall where the small amount of smoke is being sucked through. There's something behind here! Carefully he places the torch on the ground away from it and examines the stone. His fingers follow the thin crack all the way to the floor, where cold air seeps out. That's why it drew the flame, it's sucking in warmer air.

It seems like something out of a movie, but he searches for a switch or a stone to press which might open it. All he gets for his trouble is a cut palm when he scraps it against a particularly sharp part. He brings it up to his face. It's not too bad he reckons, and leans down to pick up the torch, bracing his hand against it. Suddenly, he hears a sharp crack and the rock shifts. Quickly he withdrawals his hand and backs up.

A crack forms from where his bloodied hand touched. Great, this really is a movie. He was never a fan of Harry Potter anyways. The stone splits apart and swings inward with a great sucking sound as warm air is pulled into the corridor. He bends down and picks up the torch this time. Bracing for the chill that is already nipping at his face, he forges onward, not even sure why he's doing it to begin with.

—————————————————————

Moving out into the hall, Theta sees that the source of the light is around the corner at the end of the hall on their right side. "Wait here."

"No, no, no, no, not doing this."

He sighs in an exaggerated manner. "Can you walk by yourself?"

She pushes his arm supporting her a bit and he removes it from her waist, but keeps it held out in case she needs it for balance. She holds it for just a moment while steadying herself, then strides forward, albeit slowly. He moves ahead of her then keeps pace so she won't fall behind.

The source of light, it seems, is a large patch of glowing mushrooms. There's a place in the hall where stone has crumbled in and that poured in with it now supports a host of plant life mostly in the form of these odd mushroom and some moss. Some very purple moss.

"What are these then?" she asks.

He frowns. "Possibly a hoax of some sort." He moves forward and examines each kind of growing thing. "They're actually real living things," he affirms, "Most likely genetically altered."

She looks past the slant of rubble that fills half the tunnel. "There's stairs!" she tells him with excitement.

He gets up and gazes past too. "So there are," he agrees. They appear to lead upwards and curve right. "Spiral case."

"Can we get to them?"

"Can you climb past this?"

She furrows her brows ever so slightly in determination. "Let's find out."

—————————————————————

_Pat- pat- pat- pat_

Their feet make the lightest of sounds as they all slowly climb the stairs, following Clara because she knows the way. They shortly arrive on the third floor and turn left when the hallway splits.

"Bunks beds," Amy deadpans.

Clara sighs and moves forward to claim a lower bunk. The rest follow, frowning all the more at this ridiculous and humiliating situation.

"Do you really think they're dead?" Martha asks, voice wavering nearly imperceptibly.

There's a long pause.

"I don't know," replies Amy finally, "Maybe they are, maybe they aren't, but it'll do no good to sit around thinking about it."

There are murmurs of agreement.

"Let's rest then, just for a while," says Clara.

This time the agreement is silent, but they all settle in. They don't all rest easy though.

Across the hall, an abandoned wardrobe creaks open slowly, and a small creature crawls from out of the shadows.

—————————————————————

_Here we are!_

River finds an old wooden hatch that would lead outside. She gives it a shove and chains rattle. Lovely, locked from the outside. She walks back amongst the shelves to find some tools she saw earlier. Grabbing a crowbar and a large hammer, she returns to it.

The wood is old and she manages to shove the crowbar between two planks. Using the hammer, she beats on the hooked end, pushing them apart. Then she yanks it side to side, splintering the wood around the chains, repeating the process all around the centre of the hatch. Finally, pounding it into submission with the hammer, the doors give way and she pushes them open. The whole process must've taken half an hour, and she's a bit worn out.

She climbs out, careful of the old steps, and breathes in night air. Particularly unpleasant night air. She holds up a lantern she had acquired. Dead trees surround her, their skeletal branches seeking out the dull moon. They fail to find it however, as it is hidden behind thick clouds. A light mist hangs about the ground, slithering between withered trucks and short pillars of stone. Gravestones.

River sighs internally, but takes a look at them nonetheless.

_Here lies Daniel Carpenter_

_His profession did little for_

_him in the halls of the dead_

Half expecting them to be fake, plastic things, she's surprised to feel real, damp stone under her fingers. Withered remains of what were most likely flowers are beneath the marker and something was scratched onto it, but was very shallow and has worn away into unintelligible scrabbles. She touches the lump of brown, almost black, matted plant matter and it disintegrates instantly.

She moves onto another, but in a row in front of it.

_Here sits what is left of Jebidiah Mallard_

_The Beast found him, no more to be said_

Someone had scratched lines all over the stone, making it hard to read. She skips to another row, now realising that all the rows have nine in each.

_There is nothing here but a stone_

_Jessica Davish crying and alone_

_Since that day she did condone_

_The terrible pain it sent home_

River shakes her head. That doesn't make any sense. She scoffs, it's definitely like that just to rhyme. This whole graveyard is a sham.

She looks about. Seven rows. But... She moves to the end of the yard, where nine very recent looking stones are placed. They are all blank with deep holes in front of them. She furrows her brows, then shakes her head, but that be small part of her brain that likes being silly and superstitious whispers to her. _These are meant for nine of us._ She tells it to sod off.

Suddenly, a howl tears through the air. It's joined by another, and then another. She counts about ten different voices.

She makes for the nearest three, climbs it, and draws the machete. The sound of snarls fill the air as claws click on bare rock.

—————————————————————

_She furrows her brows ever so slightly in determination. "Let's find out."_

Theta gives her a sidelong glance, impressed by her strong will and, frankly, her stubbornness, despite the fact that it's somewhat infuriating. She's also turned deliberately away.

"Let me see your arm."

"Nothing to be done about it right now, let's just get out of here," she says, eyes sparkling with unsaid challenge.

He nods and helps her up onto the pile of of dirt and rubble and she wiggles through. Dirt shifts and little grains fall from the ceiling, making Theta back up to avoid getting it in his eyes. She lands really ridiculously on the other side, but manages to not fall on her face. She's still really dizzy, and accidentally knocks into a very large stone. Rock cracks, more dirt falls, and the whole mound shifts.

Theta stays standing back as the remainder of the tunnel fills in, leaving him stranded on the opposite side. A small rock rolls right into his foot and bounces back softly.

"Dammit!" he yells and he kicks it back towards the dust and debris now blocking his path.

"Theta!" cries Rose from the other side.

"I'm alright Rose, just go and find a way out, alright? I'll see if there's a way out from this side."

"I don't want to leave you down here," she says plaintively.

He bows his head for a moment. Then raises it again. "But you have to, we can't shift this without bringing more down. Just go, I'll be fine."

"But-"

"Just go!" he practically yells in frustration. Why does she have to be so stubborn?

There's a long silence.

"Fine," she says finally, and he hears her moving away.

He turns his back on the blockage and faces the dark. The gentle light of the mushrooms is completely buried on this side and everything has been plunged into darkness.

His ankle decides to remind him that it's injured. He slaps his upper leg and tells it to shut up. Unfortunately, something in the dark also decides to announce its presence by growling. The sound seems to have come from around the nearby corner. His eyes have adjusted to the dark. Whatever it is roars like a lion, and he takes off like a cheetah.

—————————————————————

"What is it Donna?" James demands impatiently.

Donna grabs a book off the shelf. Or she tries to. "This book is completely stuck. Can't pull it or push it. It doesn't wiggle at all!" she complains to him.

"Hmmm," he hums, slipping a pair of thick framed glasses out of his pocket and promptly attaching them to his face. He tries jiggling the book to no avail. Then he moves the ones next to it. There's nothing behind them. He pats the wall behind the stuck book. Nothing. He's about to place them back when an idea strikes him.

"How about-" he says to himself, quickly trailing off as he tosses the books in his hands off to the side. Reaching around the book, he feels where the pages should be. There are none, only a little switch. He flicks it down and the case shudders. Quickly withdrawing his arm, he and Donna watch as it swings slowly open.

"Is this like a haunted house or what?" asks Donna, voice painted over with sarcasm. She's getting tired of the cheesy mystery stuff.

"Well," begins James, "Shall we go down into the staircase that leads into mysterious darkness?"

"No way!"

The sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the tunnel reaches their ears and they turn their attentions back to the dark.

Donna remembers what the voice had said about monsters.

"Is there an evil creature coming up the stairs?" James asks no one in particular, his eyes glittering with odd excitement.

Donna slaps his arm.

"Ow!" he exclaims rubbing it.

"Close the darn thing before it gets here!"

Suddenly a roar echoes from the dark and they both freeze as the footsteps increase their pace.

"Uh-oh," he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stuck you all with a bunch of cheesy cliffhangers, I know. :D


	3. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The separated groups begin running into all their own problems, but one major problem affects them all, and puts everybody at risk...

_A crack forms from where his bloodied hand touched. Great, this really is a movie. He was never a fan of Harry Potter anyways. The stone splits apart and swings inward with a great sucking sound as warm air is pulled into the corridor. He bends down and picks up the torch this time. Bracing for the chill that is already nipping at his face, he forges onward, not even sure why he's doing it to begin with._

The tunnel, originally bare natural rock and dirt, swiftly gives way to carefully detailed stone chambers.

_Crunch Crunch Crunch_

A light layer of frost covers the ground. Just thick enough to make little crunching noises as his boots softly fall over each group of crystals, just thin enough that patches of large stone slabs are visible. The cold bites and nibbles at his exposed skin, but it scarcely bothers him, since the construct itself is too interesting.

It's similar to what might expect the dungeon of a castle might look like. A cross between that and a barrow, empty arches were bodies should lie. Scratch that, do lie. He comes across the first near skeletal form. Preserved skin is exposed the the air, looking like dry, cracked leather. It's clad in ancient iron armaments, a battle axe lying at its side.

His history professor kicks in (yes, he's done "field work") and he can't help but stop to examine it. He doesn't recognise the designs, nothing he seems knowledgable in. Odd. He runs his fingers over it. Definitely iron. He touches the arm. It's very dry and crackles under the pressure from his fingers. He pulls back, frowning. His mum'd be so pleased, him touching dead things. He turns away and sticks the torch out for it to lead the way again, continuing his trek through the dark yet intriguing place.

He pauses under an archway, as his torch has illuminated yet another attention catching thing. An inscription in Greek. History professor to the rescue once more, he can read it.

Αίθουσα των Νεκρών

Taking a little time, he translates it. "Hall of the Dead," he states aloud. Just then a series of loud clinking disturbs the otherwise quiet air and John spins around, caught by surprise by a thing looming in the shadows.

A thing that just so happens to be Rory Williams.

"Bleedin' hell!" John yells as burial jars of many kinds go crashing to the ground.

"Sorry," says Rory sheepishly.

"Did you bring anyone else along?" he asks angrily.

"Nope. Just me," replies Rory.

"Then who is that behind you?"

Rory yelps and jumps towards John before spinning around. At first, slight anger bit at him because he couldn't see anyone. Thinking he just had a laugh at his expense, he was about to turn around and scold John. Then he sees something shuffling in the shadows. Something very wrinkly and disgusting. Something carrying a battle axe.

"Run!" yells John, and they both turn and take off.

The shuffling thing behind them lets out an inhuman growl and begins pursuing them.

—————————————————————

_He turns his back on the blockage and faces the dark. The gentle light of the mushrooms is completely buried on this side and everything has been plunged into darkness._

_His ankle decides to remind him that it's injured. He slaps his upper leg and tells it to shut up. Unfortunately, something in the dark also decides to announce its presence by growling. The sound seems to have come from around the nearby corner. His eyes have adjusted to the dark. Whatever it is roars like a lion, and he takes off like a cheetah._

This is oddly exciting and also probably not the best time to be enjoying running. Of course, he's not running exactly the way he'd like to, hurting ankle and all, but fun nonetheless. Never certain why, just is, but spends a lot of time running. Running from dangerous animals, angry mobs, soldiers, and prison guards.

Not that he's ever been arrested for any valid reason, only the most silly of things, it's just that they just always try to take his bow tie. No one may take his bow tie, bow ties are too cool.

_Groarrr!_

Right, running from mysterious creatures. The halls are almost unseeable, and he nearly ploughs into a wall, but turns just in time. The thundering footsteps are fading, but he doesn't slow down. He prays that he is actually losing the thing on his tail. He also hopes that its sense of smell and sight are not too superior.

He spots a small tunnel in which faint light shines from. It's small enough that he could bend double and walk, but it'd be faster just to get down. So, he gets down and crawls for his life on a steep upward slant, looking to the faint light at the end of the tunnel. He should go to heaven for this. Finally he makes it out, gets up, and goes tearing out across some very depressing, dying grass. It crunches dryly beneath his rushing feet.

He hears another roar and the shifting of rock. Whatever it is, it's not going to slow down.

He stops upon reaching an impassible wall. A look left and right forces him to conclude that it must surround the entire perimeter of the available yard around the house. Solid concrete, perfectly smooth. Not a crack, not a crevice. He turns left and resumes running as the heavy footfalls behind him pick up pace again.

It roars again. Why can't it just shut up?

—————————————————————

_Suddenly, a howl tears through the air. It's joined by another, and then another. She counts about ten different voices._

_She makes for the nearest three, climbs it, and draws the machete. The sound of snarls fill the air as claws click on bare rock._

Wolves. Large timber wolves actually, fur colour ranging from black to light grey, brown to white. They jump and scratch at the tree trunk, growling and snarling.

River's still sitting in the lower branches, so she climbs higher. Treed with no options, she can only hope they get bored soon, as she doesn't want to sit in this bare thing forever.

With a loud barking sound, what she assumes is the pack leader, steps forward, snapping his teeth at the others to drive them back. Then he turns to the tree, crouches somewhat, and jumps. She scrambles to get away as the beast clamps its jaws around the branch she was just standing on before letting go and falling rather unceremoniously to the ground. The rest of the pack takes this as an example of what to do next, and take turns leaping impossible heights to try and reach her, stripping off smaller branches with teeth and claws.

She can't risk climbing much higher, the branches are too thin. With the way they jump, she doesn't want to feel the way they bite. One grabs hold of a nearby branch and doesn't let go immediately so she takes the chance of swinging her machete at it and manages to keep her balance. It whines and lets go, falling back to the ground before staggering to its feet, trailing blood from the new wound on its muzzle.

She smirks at its retreating form, before being forced to retreat farther up herself as they clear an easier path up the tree. The dangerously thin branches creak under her weight.

_Groarrr!_

The wolves stop their assault.

She scans the area and watches as the mysterious "Caretaker" rounds the corner, stopping at the entrance of the graveyard.

The wolves turn to face him and slowly advance.

He takes two steps back and peers around the corner. Laughing, he steps forward again. "Come and get me then!" he yells at the dogs.

River shakes her head. Brave to the point of idiocy, this one. Jumping down mysterious pits, challenging wolves to eat him alive. What does he hope-

He takes off in their direction and they charge each other. Using a low-lying stone as a step board, he launches himself up and over the ones leading the pack, but another jumps to meet him, colliding midair, and cancelling out each other's forward momentum and falling to the ground.

Just then, a giant... _thing_ rounds the corner.

It spots the wolves. _GROARRRR!_

Multiple of them immediately tuck their tails between their hind legs and flee in the opposite direction. Others attack it. The one that collided with the Caretaker, however, pins him to the ground.

Seeing an opportunity to escape, she slides somewhat gracefully from the tree while everything else is distracted with everything else and plots a mental course back to the basement.

Suddenly the man under the dog cries out in pain and she turns to look.

The beast has clamped its jaws around his upper arm and he's using its insistence on hanging on to keep its face away from his. It's a losing battle though. Blood has soaked his sleeve and his face is pale.

_Snap!_

The dog whistles through its nose as the joint on its front leg is broken, but doesn't back off. He can't reach around to break its other leg, so he's still stuck under its weight.

She makes a split second decision. Rushing forward, she brings the machete down on the back of its neck, severing its spinal column. It lets loose a death cry, releasing his arm, and falls on top of him. With a grunt, he rolls it off and struggles to his feet.

Just then, a dead wolf goes flying over their heads with a roar of triumph from the strange monster behind them. Without turning to look at it, they both take off.

"What is that?" River asks around pants. The running is getting exhausting.

"No idea!" he calls back.

"Where did it come from?"

"No idea!"

She turns and rushes down the chute into the cellar and he follows.

"Why was it following you?" she asks, leading him deeper into the cellar.

"Long story," he replies, trying to catch his breath.

They fall into silence as River realises she took a wrong turn, landing them both in a narrow hall. Stone shifts behind her as she turns to backtrack. He turns with her and they both watch as the their way back is sealed off, plunging them both into darkness.

"On the bright side," River starts, "That thing shouldn't be able to follow us."

He shakes his head. "A wall of stone isn't going to stop that thing."

She sighs. "Of course it won't."

—————————————————————

_"Is there an evil creature coming up the stairs?" James asks no one in particular, his eyes glittering with odd excitement._

_Donna slaps his arm._

_"Ow!" he exclaims, rubbing it._

_"Close the darn thing before it gets here!"_

_Suddenly a roar echoes from the dark and they both freeze as the footsteps increase their pace._

_"Uh-oh," he whispers._

Just as he reaches for the switch to close the bookcase, Donna cries out.

"Wait!"

He freezes as a bedraggled Rose comes running up the stairs.

"Rose Tyler!" he states excitedly. 

Unfortunately, in her dizzy state, she can't seem to slow down and crashes right into him.

He staggers but manages to remain upright while steadying her. "What's wrong then?"

"Ishim rally terd. Dish too."

"What?"

"'m really tired," she annunciates. "Dizzy too."

"Come on you," he replies, seemingly unconcerned about how heavily she is leaning on him, "Off to bed!"

"That was anticlimactic," mumbles Donna as he scoops her up upon finding that she can't really walk on her own.

He smiles. "Need an anti-climax every now and then! Good for the blood!"

Donna closes the bookcase door and they both climb the steps to the next floor.

Just then the whole house shifts like an earthquake has hit, and they cling to the rails for dear life, James almost falls backwards down the stairs. There's a cracking of rock and splintering of wood as a section of the wall across from them shifts and sags, like the whole bottom floor has been torn away.

Rose wiggles to get put down, so he puts her down, holding her until she's steady.

"Let's investigate downstairs," says John, "Allons-y!"

They very quickly reach the ground floor to discover the bricks, which had taken the place of where a door should be, are damaged and falling out if place. Still standing, but a good solid whack or two could knock it all down. The wood of the walls is splintered and electrical lights on the walls have gone out. The floorboards are sticking up at haphazard angles, like the floor was shoved up.

"What happened?" asks Donna to no one in particular.

"No idea," whispers James. Then he climbs over the rubble to investigate.

Rose goes to approach.

"Watch where you step!" calls James.

She cautiously steps into the midst of the wreckage, the ruined boards groaning under her weight. She looks down through a gaping hole in the floor and instantly freezes.

Donna sees her go stiff. "What's wrong Rose?" she asks before moving forward.

"Stay back!" she practically yells.

James spins away from the brick wall to face her. "Rose?"

"There's nothing under these. The floor's fallen away," she tells them. The floorboards look too old to be sturdy enough on their own.

The wood under her feet has nothing supporting it and could collapse any second. When they realise this, both Donna and James' eyes widen.

James taps his feet lightly on the floor. A hollow sound responds. Donna does the same and finds that the section she is standing on is solid.

"Does it look like a long fall?" he asks Rose, trying to keep his voice light.

"There's some light, but I really can't tell how far."

He swears under his breath. "Alright, just... try to move slowly towards Donna, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replies, voice barely heard. She's still a bit dizzy.

Ever so carefully, she raises one foot and moves it forward, gingerly testing the ground before placing her weight on it. James waits to move until she's on safe ground. Agonising seconds pass as she slowly makes her way across the floor and finally, _finally_ , she's standing beside Donna.

He begins moving to follow her. The boards creak, but he continues on. He hears rushing footsteps and assumes the group from upstairs has joined them, but he pays them no attention, keeping focused on the task at hand.

Testing his weight on a spot and finding it sturdy enough, he places his foot down. Again and again, he carefully coordinates each step until he's faced with the problem of the large hole Rose originally looked down. He decides to move farther away before passing it, so he scoots sideways a bit before moving on, placing his foot on a clear space where none of the wood has split. Then that very spot cracks, and next thing he knows, he's falling through them.

—————————————————————

_Across the hall, an abandoned wardrobe creaks open slowly, and a small creature crawls from out of the shadows._

With a roar and a great crashing sound, the whole house shifts slightly and the three women are startled from their light rest. They exchange looks with each other before leaping up and going running from the room to investigate.

Rushing down the stairs, none of them notice the door across the hall has been opened. They don't notice as the small creature scampers across the hall and into the bedroom, taking up residence in one of the beds, waiting for prey to return.

The three manage to make it downstairs in time to see James slowly making his way across the floor. Rose motions that they stay back, so the three camp at the top of the stairs, watching the scene play out. They watch in earnest as James edges around the hole in the floor. Suddenly, the floor cracks and he begins to fall through it.

Clara gasps in shock and Rose cries out his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google is my history professor here (just blink it, it's correct enough, right?).
> 
> Nope, this has nothing to do with any Bethesda games.


	4. Don't Want to be a Shadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All around chaos underground, terrible secrets are being discovered, something dark is plotting, and a patient predator comes back to bite...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning: Potentially Disturbing Imagery**  
>     
> Someone was supposed to die this chapter, but I'm putting it off until the next one. Sorry, I know, four chapters without a good death, I'm useless, right?

_They fall into silence as River realises she took a wrong turn, landing them both in a narrow hall. Stone shifts behind her as she turns to backtrack. He turns with her and they both watch as the their way back is sealed off, plunging them both into darkness._

_"On the bright side," River starts, "That thing shouldn't be able to follow us."_

_He shakes his head. "A wall of stone isn't going to stop that thing."_

_She sighs. "Of course it won't."_

Suddenly, a dim light illuminates the room. There is no source, the very air seems to be giving off a faint glow.

"Anyone there?" calls River. She's shushed by the Caretaker. She counters his offence with a glare.

Eventually, he begins walking forward and she follows, grumbling.

It takes them seven strides to reach an empty room. Somehow they couldn't see it until they were there despite the illumination, like it obscures as much as it reveals. Anyways, room. Small, very boxy, ten by ten feet maybe? Little bigger?

"For such a small room, it sure is interesting," says River.

Unfortunately, the pain in his arm finally hits him and he winces, gritting his teeth to avoid making a noise but failing. She turns to find him staring at his crimson stained sleeve and clutching it forcefully, like he's trying to crush the pain out of it.

Deciding she may as well help, she moves forward and tries to take his jacket off. He instantly recoils.

"I didn't save your sorry backside for you to bleed to death," she scolds, "Let me help."

He relaxes and she gets him to release his arm long enough to slide the ridiculously endearing tweed coat off his shoulders. She then rolls the sleeve of his Oxford up, causing him to sharply intake a breath. Ignoring his reaction, she takes a rag from her pocket she always carries (thankfully she hasn't needed to wipe anything with it yet) and bandages his arm best she can.

"I'll be needing your belt," she tells him.

He cringes, but nods, so she carefully removes it and wraps it tightly around his upper arm, berating him when he whines.

"Put pressure on it," she orders and he complies. She turns away from him to examine the interesting wall.

Said wall, just to the right of their exit from the hall is a wretchedly bleached colour and covered in unintelligible scribbles and symbols. Hateful words are carved into the stone in many different handwritings.

Then they spot an odd dark blur on the wall near the ground. Suddenly not feeling his injury as curiosity takes over, he moves forward to mimic its position. It seems like a person on their knees perhaps. Weeping. He'd put his hands up to cover his face to completely copy the blur, but is wary of his arm, which is slowly stopping its bleeding.

River is looking over the words. Many of them have been roughly scratched in, but one is clear, precise, and chiseled in with care.

_You will burn in hell for this Jessica!_

River thinks back unbidden to a certain gravestone she saw.

_Jessica Davish crying and alone_

"Y'know," the Caretaker begins suddenly, but leaves the word hanging for a few moments before continuing. "At Hiroshima towards the end of World War II, after they dropped the bomb, blew out everything, and destroyed hundreds of thousands of innocent lives; people looked into those ruins and found many, many terrible things." He traces the outline of the image with his eyes. "But what I found to be the worst thing of all, oddly, was the shadows. There were plenty of miserable wounded, their skin literally melting off, the fires, and all that is horrid, but I thought the shadows were the worst."

River looks confused. "What are you talking about?" she demands.

He stands up to face her.

"Even though the bomb detonated almost six-hundred metres above the city, it still generated enough heat to literally disintegrate human beings below it. Their bodies protected the stone behind them from the brunt of the blast, leaving a sort of... shadow. They were destroyed in a single moment. Nothing left of them except their blurred outline on whatever happened to be behind or below them. Could you imagine? Something so devastating as to remove any sentient being in a flash of light and leave nothing but an imprint on a meaningless, scarred backdrop."

River shakes her head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He gestures to all parts of the wall while clarifying. "Look. See how the wall in the hall is dark and normal and the wall in the room is bleached?" He waits for her to nod. He then points to the blurred figure and speaks with an even voice.

"Shadow."

—————————————————————

_Rory yelps and jumps towards John before spinning around. At first, slight anger bit at him because he couldn't see anyone. Thinking he just had a laugh at his expense, he was about to turn around and scold John. Then he sees something shuffling in the shadows. Something very wrinkly and disgusting. Something carrying a battle axe._

_"Run!" yells John, and they both turn and take off._

_The shuffling thing behind them lets out an inhuman growl and begins pursuing them._

"What is that?" cries Rory as they flee deeper into the corridors which quickly turn into a maze.

"How should I know?" John yells back.

Another one steps out of the dark in front of them and John stops abruptly, Rory crashing into him. He grabs Rory's sleeve as he changes direction to get him moving again.

The cold bothers neither of them as they scramble to escape the odd but definitely dangerous things intent upon their doom, not even slowing when John throws down his torch on a large pool of some form of oil that is pooling in a spot on the ground, igniting the lot and creating a barrier between them and their pursuers. Not the end of their troubles though, as there seem to be an infinite number of them coming from every direction, and after standing so near that inferno, both of them are sweating from stress, action, and heat.

Light from the torch lost, they stumble blindly around the passages until something perplexing somehow stops them.

A soothing voice whispers out from the dark, its existence calling them closer. "This way," it says, barely making a sound. Both men stop. It hums and hisses, the way one would think a serpent might, extending certain words and letters. Or maybe a powerful dragon, since it successfully manages that and a deep baritone, sounding ancient and knowing. Most likely more than just _sounding_ ancient and knowing.

"Come, this way," it beckons.

The space the noise is coming from is dark.

John sneers at the voice. "No."

"I offer you safe passage," it hums alluringly. Rory seems to be leaning unwittingly towards the sound and John smacks his arm hard, effectively snapping him out of it.

They hear the shuffling of dried out feet over stone, the garbling of an ancient tongue.

It hums softly in a contemplative manner. "If you do not trust me, then I will leave you to the mercy of the dead. Believe this though, they have none."

Rory is fidgeting. "How much worse can it get?" he whines.

John scowls. "A lot worse, I'd imagine."

There's a clank as a monster rounds the corner and they both duck into the space where the voice came from and quickly find it's nothing more than a glorified hidey-hole, barely enough to accommodate them both.

"We're cornered now!" John hisses.

A throaty growl issues from the thing as it passes by, or at least they think it's passing by, but it stops, searching the glorified hidey-hole opposite theirs. Then it turns to search the one they're hiding in and both men cringe as their location is about to be discovered. However, a shadow slinks forward and rears up in front of them, effectively hiding them from view.

A pause. Shuffling is heard as the thing moves off, and the dark form falls back to the floor before beginning to slither away.

"This way," it tells them, voice still impossibly deep and lethargic for its size.

Both men exchange undefinable glances, wipe the sweat from their brows, and follow the serpent-like thing.

—————————————————————

_The three manage to make it downstairs in time to see James slowly making his way across the floor. Rose motions that they stay back, so the three camp at the top of the stairs, watching the scene play out. They watch in earnest as James edges around the hole in the floor. Suddenly, the floor cracks and he begins to fall through it._

_Clara gasps in shock and Rose cries out his name._

"James!" Rose dives forward, sliding on her belly and Donna grabs her ankles just to feel like she's helping somehow.

She finds another, smaller hole and peers through the boards. "James!" she cries.

No response.

"James, if you can hear me make some kind of noise!"

Silence.

"How far was that fall?" asks Amy suddenly.

Rose shakes her head before shimmying back towards the safe part of the floor. She turns to them.

"I don't know."

Clara stomps her foot in frustration for lack of anything else to do. "I am done! Done with this!"

"You and me both," Donna huffs.

"Where are the other four? That River woman or John or Rory or the bloke with the bow tie?" asks Martha.

"Basement I think," replies Rose.

"Should we find them?" asks Martha.

"They could all be dead already," Amy replies.

Rose shakes her head. "I just... I just need a good kip." Despite her training and practice in the field, the loss of a comrade has always affected her badly. She furrows her brows. They're comrades now? After a moment of thinking, she reckons they all are. Well, most of them. They seem sincere, and Rose is good at getting a read on people.

They climb the stairs, making it to the third floor.

Rose is about to take the second bottom bunk from the wall when she spots something interesting on the third bottom bunk. She moves over and crouches to examine it better. A wolf, sitting back on its haunches, head thrown back in a howl, has been scratched into the footboard.

"I think I'll take this one," she claims as she flops down onto it and rolls over on her side. She's always loved wolves.

Amy drops onto another bottom bunk and both Donna and Clara leave the room. Going across the hall to explore, they pass by the now damaged window and into the other half of the floor. The first door on the right reveals a cozy office space. An antique desk and chair dominate the room and books are loosely stacked around the floor. A couch sits across from the desk, up against the wall, a stack of old magazines taking up a whole cushion.

Donna flops onto the free cushion as Clara sifts around for a book, hoping to take her mind off things, a proper adventure to take her away from this awful place for a while. She treats them roughly in her frustration. Finally she decides on one and moves over to the chair, checking for traps and then, after finding none, she sits down to read.

~~~~

Clara's eyes snap open, did she really fall asleep? Wow. Might as well go lie down. She places her book on the desk pages down to keep her place and rises. Donna must've gotten bored of the magazines, since she's nowhere to be found. Leaving the study, she goes to find an open bed.

Upon reaching the room, she finds no one is there. _Maybe they went to look for the others,_ She thinks.

She decides upon taking the bed to the left of Rose's, the one directly in front of the door. Bottom bunk of course, no point in climbing.

—————————————————————

Slinky wants his prey to come back. Slinky didn't slink in here to wait around for nothing. _Patience Slinky,_ he tells himself. The humans will come back eventually.

The door creaks open. _Well, speak of the devil._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter felt short, then I looked at the word count. Yeah, it's short. Next chapter will be much longer, I promise.


	5. All the Nightmares in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of our contestants are finally finding out why they're here and something may not be exactly as it seems, while others have to fight for their lives. Some, it looks like, are just along for the most dangerous ride ever as a major plan begins to unfold around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suspense! Dialogue! The death we have all been worrying about! I had this written two days after chapter four and I've been bursting with excitement about posting it since. I can't wait anymore, so... Ta-da!

_A pause. Shuffling is heard as the thing moves off, and the dark form falls back to the floor before beginning to slither away._

_"This way," it tells them, voice still impossibly deep and lethargic for its size._

_Both men exchange undefinable glances, wipe the sweat from their brows, and follow the serpent-like thing._

The shadow leads them down a hall free of any hostile forms.

Rory speaks quietly, asking the thing, "What do we call you?"

It hums, a deep single note, in contemplation and pauses. Finally, it speaks again. "I have many names, for I have lived a very, very long time. Living as long as I, one tends to gather many titles."

"Is there something specific for us?" John asks.

"Mmmmm," it hums again, "My most common title is the Darkness, but do not let this name worry you. It is only because of my form, which is tended to be described as a shadow. You see how I am now. Like a black smog, slithering along the ground, no definitive features, able to change my vague shape but never able to add details."

"Why are you like that?" asks Rory, "I mean, only if you don't mind me asking," he stutters, "I didn't mean to be rude."

It gives a slight chuckle. "No, it is fine. I do not mind curiosity of that sort, most cannot grasp the lack of solid form and are left in confusion, I am used to questions of all kinds. But, long story short, my past was meddled with in a devastating way. In order to keep my existence, I lost my solid physical form."

John cocks his head. "Meddled with your past?"

"Yes," it affirms as it turns a corner.

"Can you elaborate?"

It raises its head somewhat, continuing moving whilst turning its head to the side as if to look at John over its shoulder, if it had a shoulder.

"Time travel, sir. Time travel."

He shakes his head. "Time travel is impossible. If people could time travel, there would be evidence of it in history."

It chuckles again, looking straight ahead once more. "Oh, but there is! There is evidence of time travel everywhere, but it's almost impossible to see if one has always existed lineally."

"So you've traveled in time," Rory guesses.

"Indeed. One might even say I was the Lord of Time."

John scoffs.

"Believe what you will, but I tell you only truth," he says, stopping at a door.

The shape of the shadow in front of them changes into a humanoid, and it pushes open the door before entering.

John follows partway, stopping by the doorframe to observe the room. There's furniture, all decorated stone and wood. A cold fireplace takes up most of one wall, and a doorway dominates the opposite one. Swords and axes are mounted in racks on a wall and a shield sits on a table.

"Please, come in," he tells them invitingly as he shifts shape again into something that could possibly be a large dog, voice staying the same. As it walks past the fireplace, the logs in it burst into flame by themselves. "Be sure to close the door behind you. Care for refreshments? There is cool water in a jug, and some bread and fruit over there by the shelves.

They enter and close the door. John gets himself a drink.

"What about those things?"

The dog turns in a couple of circles before flopping down on an old mat. "The Restless Dead? Eventually they will return to their fitful slumber until another living thing walks past. When you leave, feel free to take a weapon, they are relatively easy to put down. They'll pop up again, but it will be days before then."

Rory nods, moving over to the weapon rack. After examining a few, he removes one.

"Ah, a _gladius_ , a fine choice," says the dog.

Rory twirls and swings it around with ease.

John raises his brows. "Where'd ya learn to use that?"

Rory shuffles his feet and looks down sheepishly, mumbling something unintelligible.

"What's that?"

He shakes his head adamantly. "Nope, nothing, never mind."

The dog laughs, the ancient voice lightening for a moment. "Chin up, centurion!"

John shakes his head and finds a seat by the fire, sipping the sweet tasting water.

Turning to him, he asks, "Is there anything else we can call you?"

"Hmmm. Perhaps Thirteen." It nods to no one in particular. "You can call me Thirteen."

"Odd name," he states bluntly.

"Well, that's another title of mine, the Thirteenth."

"Alright. Thirteen'll do fine I guess." He pauses for a moment as Rory sits nearby, laying the sword on the ground next to him. "How'd you end up here?"

Thirteen shifts uncomfortably. "An accident. Involving serious damage to my ship. I was trapped here, and I've been trying to escape ever since."

Rory pipes up. "How long have you been here?"

"Seventy-three years."

Rory gapes and John furrows his brows.

"Are we the first people you've met?"

He shakes his head. "No, you're not. The Strangers have been forcing ten... 'contestants' into this place for seventy years. Ten a decade." He looks at John. "You are the seventy-first," then turns to Rory, "And you are the seventy-eighth participant. I've only actually been able to talk to a very few though, and it's very refreshing to have company."

"Right. And what happened to all of them?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" he perks what seem to be his ears up as if excited or surprised. "Well, most of them died, actually."

John splutters and Rory pounds his back as he coughs. "Sorry," he forces out in a squeak, "Down the wrong pipe."

"Erm. Died?" asks Rory.

Thirteen watches John for a moment. "Apologies, I didn't mean to shock you. Err..." For the first time, it sounds a bit uncertain. "Did I say something wrong?" There's a drawn-out awkward pause before he speaks again. "Well. Yes. Anyways. Nine out of ten die, and the one who remains is declared the victor and is removed from here."

Both men sit in stunned silence. John puts his drink down on the floor.

"Is something wrong?"

"So you're saying," John begins, "That we were brought here to die?"

He smacks his tail on the ground, cocking his head in deep thought. "Yes. I suppose you were. I have yet to figure out _why_ they do such a thing, but there's not much I can do about it."

"What are we supposed to do?" cries Rory, clearly beginning to panic.

"Peace," Thirteen commands and Rory relaxes almost instantaneously. "I have been formulating a plan, and it may be our hope of escape. I have not been able to do it alone, but last decade I fine tuned the details."

Rory shakes his head. "We can't leave without the others."

Thirteen shakes his head. "No, no, no, we wouldn't be leaving anyone behind. Whoever is still alive by the time it is able to be enacted would be transported with us away from this place, but it will require complete cooperation of at least one person. I cannot make promises, of course, because not every plan works exactly as they have been made, but I will do my best as long as everyone else does theirs."

"That could work, but we'll need to know this plan," says John.

The dog nods. "Then listen closely, and ask if you do not understand, for this is very important."

—————————————————————

_Testing his weight on a spot and finding it sturdy enough, he places his foot down. Again and again, he carefully coordinates each step until he's faced with the problem of the large hole Rose originally looked down. He decides to move farther away before passing it, so he scoots sideways a bit before moving on, placing his foot on a clear space where none of the wood has split. Then that very spot cracks, and next thing he knows, he's falling through them._

James' head is _pounding_ and his leg hurts. He definitely shouldn't have gone ou- "Gah!" he yells as the pain in his leg flares suddenly upon him trying to get up, and his mind snaps out of its confused, groggy state. He has not gone out with some mates and gotten completely pissed, he's fallen through some broken boards for who knows how far. He tries his best to sit up and doesn't get far before falling back down. He grits his teeth and tries to ignore the pain in his leg to examine his surroundings, but it feels like it's on fire. And _damn_ is he tired.

Finally he manages to discover he is lying amongst stone rubble and shattered wood. He picks his head up enough to see his leg and determines just by sight that it is certainly broken. His heavy coat flew up as he fell and helped lessen the impact if his head on the stone, so he luckily avoided a broken skull, but he's most likely concussed. Good thing he decided to keep it on for once.

Suddenly, he hears the grunt of a large animal and freezes. Panic creeps in as heavy footfalls shift the stone around, clinking and crunching as they grind against each other. He guesses it's bipedal, from the sound of it. The vulnerability of his position and immobility only heightens his anxiety. He's far to visible for his liking.

The creature growls, blasting hot air onto his head.

_Oh blimey._

His eyes widen as the... _the thing_ comes around into his view. It's almost hard to look at, it's just a massive blob of dark with burning red eyes, but the more he focuses on it, the clearer it becomes. He wants to tear his eyes away, but finds that he can't.

It's terrible face looks like something out of a horror film, something akin to the Devil, or perhaps Death. It's horrible face is a deathly pale grey, streaked with molten red lines. When it opens its mouth, it's like opening an incinerator, the light of a fire is in its throat, and heat radiates from its gaping maw. It doesn't look like it has teeth. The rest of its form is the same ugly shade of grey, also creased with dark, fiery red lines. Curved talons protrude from each of its four fingers, and short straight claws from what seems to be two thumbs, placed on the opposite sides of its wrist. Matching pairs are connected to four arms, two from the shoulders and two from its sides.

Curved horns curl away from the top of its head, and iron-looking shackles are connected to them, several links of a broken chain dangle from one. Shackles are also on three of the four arms. It's probably three metres tall roughly, and crouches over to fit in the damaged tunnel.

Faint light filters down from the holes and cracks in the floor.

It places two lower hands on the ground and leans forward close the his face. The heat radiating off it hurts, and he swears loudly, trying to get away.

_GROAARRR!_

He starts swearing for multiple reasons now, 1) the pain in his leg is nearly too much, 2) the thing is rearing up and flailing its many limbs, C, no 3) someone is yelling his name and, 4 or D, whichever) he doesn't have much else better to say. He tries to call out to the familiar voice.

The monster dips down again, swinging an arm towards his head, and the world goes black.

—————————————————————

Donna looks up from her magazine and sees Clara with her head fallen forward and book on her lap. She debates whether to wake her up so she can go to a bed, or leave her to sleep. Eventually she decides the latter and leaves the room in search of food.

She descends the stairs and skirts around the unsafe section of the floor, which the edge of which is now marked by a ring of placed books, to get to the dining room, finding the other three women there already.

Rose is wiping her arm, delicately patting the places where the her skin is damaged, probably from when she fell through the hole in the wall. Martha and Amy have joined her at the large table. Martha is currently eating from the giant mounds of food.

"Amy, where'd ya find that ice cream?" Donna asks.

She is currently eating straight out of the tub with a large spoon.

Pointing to a nondescript door nearly obscured by a bookshelf she says, "Kitchen. I found it in the freezer."

She nods and goes past them into the kitchen.

She passes Martha, who is calmly eating various fruits and vegetables. Her movements look so mechanical.

Donna can't blame her.

Upon entering the kitchen, she instantly feels off, like something else is there watching her. She locates the fridge as fast as possible, passing by what looks like it could be a meat freezer. She will NOT be going in there. She quickly finds what she's looking for, grabs a spoon, and exits the kitchen.

She claims a seat and digs in, slowly eating some rocky road.

Rose stares forlornly at the mounds of food.

The silence stretches for at least ten minutes until Rose breaks it by looking up.

"'d you hear that?" Rose asks, voice in a whisper. The other women exchange glances before shaking their heads.

Rose shakes her then, and rises, forsaking this room for the entry hall. The others stop their eating, leaving melting ice cream and half-sliced fruit lying around, and follow her.

"Shhh!" Rose hushes them as they enter.

"What?" whispers Donna.

Rose gestures to the floor, where sounds of movement are arising from.

Suddenly, someone swears loudly and she recognises James' voice, but just as she's about to call out, a loud roar splits the air. This is followed by a chain of colourful expletives and growling. Then James cries out in pain. 

"James!" Rose yells, not able to keep quiet after hearing him cry out. She slides on her belly past the barrier of books, trying to keep her weight spread out, to peer through a crack in the floor, but fails to see much.

There's a pause in the scuffle and James yells out again. "Ro-"

_Thud!_

A moment's silence is followed by the shifting of stone and animalistic grunts, as whatever is down there moves away.

"James!" Rose yells again.

No response.

She face-desks the floor, and the boards creak. Her head snaps up and she quickly retreats before it gives way.

A foghorn-like noise sounds through the house, not too loud, but enough to be easily heard.

They listen intently as an announcement begins, announcing someone's death.

—————————————————————

_He gestures to all parts of the wall while clarifying. "Look. See how the wall in the hall is dark and normal and the wall in the room is bleached?" He waits for her to nod. He then points to the blurred figure and speaks with an even voice._

_"Shadow."_

River gasps. "You can't mean- but- that should be impossible!"

"We've seen some pretty impossible things, I am sure this place can manage a few more," he says.

River frowns. "But how, you said it was the temperature that did that?"

"Yes," he looks at the opposite wall. "Something focused enough heat in a small space and obliterated whoever was there," he nods towards the marking on the wall. "As for the how. Well, I don't know. I hate not knowing."

"Realeasssse mmmeeeee."

A deep and ancient voice in the dark addresses them and they both jump. It's long and drawn out, like the thing is speaking in a slow motion video, stretching its S, M and E's.

"Who's there?" he calls.

"I am one of many names. I am the Entity, the Deep Darkness, the Thing From the Void, the Destroyer of Worlds, I am a legend woven through all of history. I am the Ascended, I am Death."

"That supposed to sound impressive?"

It laughs, cold and cruel. "Be like the others. Fear me. Release me from this place, and you will be spared."

The Caretaker laughs. "You expect us to believe that?"

It hums eerily, a deep contemplating sound. "Do not take the traitor as an example," it tells them finally. "I am an entity of my word. Let loose my bonds, and you shall be exalted."

"What traitor?" yells River over the low humming that is vibrating through the walls.

"You found her."

_The shadow on the wall._

"Release me!" it commands.

"I don't think so," he answers.

"Then you shall never leave this place," it growls.

—————————————————————

_Upon reaching the room, she finds no one is there._ Maybe they went to look for the others, _She thinks._

_She decides upon taking the bed to the left of Rose's, the one directly in front of the door. Bottom bunk of course, no point in climbing._

————

_Slinky wants his prey to come back. Slinky didn't slink in here to wait around for nothing._ Patience Slinky, _he tells himself. The humans will come back eventually._

 _The door creaks open._ Well, speak of the devil.

Slinky is pleased there is a human, but it will only matter if it selects this bed. Otherwise, he must keep waiting.

Luckily for Slinky, the human draws near. The House vibrates with excitement, it enjoys death and destruction, it likes it when its creations are able to do their job perfectly. Slinky likes his job. Never sure why he was named Slinky, but oh well, right?

The bed dips with the female's weight, which is in fact, not very much. Sleep human, sleep.

_~~~~_

Clara pulls the comfortable silken sheets up to her chin after kicking off her shoes and lying down. Despite her exhaustion, she can't fall asleep. All this is getting to her, putting her nerves on end, and without anything to distract her, her mind can't leave it well enough alone.

She also has the nagging feeling something is about to go really wrong.

The skin of her right arm begins tingling. No, not tingling, something's moving on it, coiling around it. She jumps in surprise, kicking the covers back and shaking her arm even before she sees what it is. When she gets a look at what seems to be a snake, she tries grabbing it with her other hand, and promptly gets bit.

She yelps in pain but tries again, this time grabbing it just behind the head.

She yanks the small creature from her arm and wraps both hands around it and, ignoring the stinging of her left hand, begins to strangle it. It whips about, smacking her with its little body whilst flailing its tiny limbs, but she holds on. Eventually it goes limp. She keeps her hands wrapped around its neck for just a while longer before flinging it to the side.

She tries to get up to go find Martha, and fails, falling straight back down on the bed, room spinning dangerously around her. She finds she's unable to move her legs.

"Help!" she calls, but her voice comes out a dry rasp. She clears her throat best she can. "Help!" she calls again, managing a hoarse shout. No one hears her, and the world fades from view.

—————————————————————

**Clara Oswald: Deceased**  
Killed by Slinky the Snake-Thing  
First Elimination. Rest in Peace

A man examines the change in the leader board before moving to a microphone and holding a button to speak into it.

"Contestants, a competitor has lost the game. Good luck to the remaining nine."

The House hears this announcement, sounds the horn for their attention, and relays the message to those who remain.


	6. Figure it Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue! Action! Mind games, monster swarms, the start of a long-lasting skirmish, and the continuing of a scheme with more sides than one. The house begins circling its prey and the contestants keep dying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warning: Major Character Death, Trigger Warning**
> 
> There is a line after the sentence, "Only through five and she's already got two wrong." that can be skipped to avoid a possibly disturbing trigger.
> 
> (Could I please get some reviews? I'd like to hear what you guys think of my writing style and content, as well as characterization!)

_Thirteen shakes his head. "No, no, no, we wouldn't be leaving anyone behind. Whoever is still alive by the time it is able to be enacted would be transported with us away from this place, but it will require complete cooperation of at least one person. I cannot make promises, of course, because not every plan works exactly as they have been made, but I will do my best as long as everyone else does theirs."_

_"That could work, but we'll need to know this plan," says John._

_The dog nods. "Then listen closely, and ask if you do not understand, for this is very important."_

~~~~

John shakes his head. "So you'd need to possess somebody?"

"No, not exactly. It's more like hitching a ride. One must be very strong to hold my presence in their mind, both mentally and physically. They'd be in full control, I'd just be there for, well, for the ride," Thirteen clarifies.

"But why do you need a ride?" Rory asks.

He shuffles his paws uncomfortably where he stands. They've moved around the room during their conversation and the dog has mostly been pacing. "Technically, I don't have a physical form. Well, I don't have a proper one. I can't exit this place without a vessel of some sort, and it must be a living vessel."

"So, if you need a living vessel, how did you get here in the first place?"

Thirteen sits and lowers his head. "An accident involving my ship, which was nearly destroyed in the crash. She's dead now, my ship, unable to be sustained in this terrible place."

John sits down again too. "What kind of ship?"

"A space-time ship," he answers in all seriousness.

"It was alive?" asks Rory.

Thirteen nods.

"How?"

He raises his head. "Well she grew, obviously."

Rory blinks. "Okay..."

"So when do we do this?" John asks.

He wags his tail. "Soon. I do not know specifically, but very soon."

John nods slowly. "Just to reiterate," he begins, "You're going to harness energy from someplace-"

"There are electrical generators hidden underground," he clarifies. His tail stops wagging.

"Yeah, okay, electricity. Then you're going to jump into somebody's head, we're all going to zap outta here, and then what?"

"Improv."

"Seems too simple," says Rory worriedly.

"What do you mean _improv?_ " John growls.

"The plan seems simple, but the second part will not be easy. And yes, we will have to improvise, I haven't a clue what happens out there except what the Strangers send by radio signal, which isn't much. I've already tracked and locked onto the signal's location, so I know where the gate between here and there is," he cocks his head. "Is it not better than staying here?"

John's scowl remains. "But how do we know _there_ won't be worse than _here_?"

Thirteen gets up and begins pacing again. "How would we know if we nev-" suddenly he stops and stiffens. "I have received a broadcast from afar," he states randomly, "They wish I announce the death of one of your fellows."

Both Rory and John jump up.

"What?"

"Who?"

Thirteen shakes his head. "We could find out."

"How?"

"We will have to go back upstairs," he tells them, "Take up your sword centurion, there will most likely be trouble ahead."

It doesn't take long to be ready to leave, but Thirteens insists they eat something before they go.

"I'm not hungry," John says in his normal grumpy tone.

"You will be, this place is hazardous to your health in the unnoticeable ways as well. You must be sure to eat and drink plenty."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna starve to death if I go a few hours without eating."

"This much may be true," he watches Rory strap the sword to his side. "But you _will_ die from lack of energy. I am being very serious. Keep your strength up."

"So... what?" Rory almost jokingly says as he looks up, "We're getting the life drained out of us just being here?"

"Yes, you are."

They both freeze, staring at the shadowy form.

"Your body will need much more nourishment than usual, and you will experience hunger more often as it tries to naturally compensate for the unnatural loss. Tell the others when you see them." With that, he turns to the door. "Ready?"

John steps forward and pushes the door open, revealing a figure standing at the end of it, bearing a weapon of some sort.

"Here's trouble already," Rory says as he steps forward and draws the blade. "C'mon then," he calls out as he moves to attack the monster when it charges.

—————————————————————

_He starts swearing for multiple reasons now, 1) the pain in his leg is nearly too much, 2) the thing is rearing up and flailing its many limbs, C, no 3) someone is yelling his name and, 4 or D, whichever) he doesn't have much else better to say. He tries to call out to the familiar voice._

_The monster dips down again, swinging an arm towards his head, and the world goes black._

~~~~

The world swims slowly into view as he wakes, and his head is pounding and his face stings terribly. He feels like he's been dragged for miles over rough terrain. Things are right on the edges of his mind, but he can't seem to remember why he's here... Or where he is for that matter.

It's fairly dark, he seems to be chained to the wall behind him, and it is dead silent. Literally no sound at all whatsoever. He wonders if he's died and gone to hell. He has no idea how long he's been here, but he feels as though he's missed several important happenings.

Here. But where is here? He strains to think but nothing comes up. He's about to start moving when he hears something else doing so, and freezes. Freezing didn't do him much good when that thing came around. The thing! The evil monster thing! Oh! That must be it, did it chain him up? He shudders to think what for. There's a snarl and a clang of metal.

Something's coming. It grows nearer as the sounds of fighting die down.

Suddenly, a shadowy, unknown dark form round the corner and he panics. "No! Get away!" he yells to some effect. It immediately backs up, going back around the corner. There's some quiet speech that he can't make out, like a small argument, and the skinny bloke with the nose rounds the corner, along with leather and ears followed by that shadow thing again.

The skinny bloke puts down a sword and large shield before approaching.

"James? James, can you hear me? It's me, Rory."

He tries nodding a reply but does little more than wiggle his head from side to side. Rory takes this as a good sign and begins looking him over.

"We'll have to carry him, can you get these chains undone?" he asks no one in particular.

Thirteen steps forward and gingerly takes the manacles in his teeth before crushing them.

"Don't think'll ever be givin' him any dog treats," John remarks.

Thirteen snorts derisively.

"Here, take this," Rory hands John the shield, which he attaches to his left arm, and he moves to James' left.

Picking the sword up in his right, Rory moves to James' right side and helps him sling an arm over his shoulders before wrapping an arm around him to carry him.

Between the both of them, they manage to move James at a reasonable pace, and he's trying his best not to make noise, but squeaks and grunts of pain escape him anyways.

On occasion, he speaks, saying, "That way, go that way," or, "Damn this leg."

Rory's nurse-ness finally kicks with that comment, after the initial shock of finding him so beat up wears off. "Tell me what's wrong," he orders calmly.

"My leg's broken, I think I have a concussion. My face hurts," he mumbles.

"Looks like you're gonna have scars, mate. Got a couple of long gashes on the left side of your face," says John.

"You're gonna be fine, James," Rory tells him, "You're going to be taken care of. Promise."

He mumbles a barely audible reply.

"Where's Thirteen?" John asks, looking around and ignoring him. "He was just here."

James lolls his head slightly towards him. "W'as thirntn?" he asks, quickly losing coherency.

"He's a... Ah, a sort of thing, looks likes dog. Sor' of. Anyways, he led us to you. I'm wondering where he is now."

"Behind you," comes the deep lethargic voice.

James jolts, startled by the sudden deep voice and yelps in pain.

"Apologies, I did not mean to startle you. There is much rubble on the ground up ahead though, you must be careful."

John grunts with effort. "Ya mind helping some?"

The quiet pattering footsteps stop. "Mmm... I do not believe I have ever come in contact with a contestant before. Actually, I have not touched or been touched by a living thing since I lost my form, with the exception of my ship. I do not even know if I can."

"Can you try?"

"I suppose." The dog comes around in front of them. "Try putting him on my back, but be wary, I'm not sure if it's possible."

Carefully, they carry James over to the shadowy being.

"I don't like it," he complains.

"Just try?" asks Rory, who's struggling with the weight and terrain.

James tentatively reaches out and places a hand on it. Thirteen shivers and crouches away, then comes back into place. James tries again, putting pressure on his back and finding that his hand sort of sinks into the blackness somewhat before stopping.

"I don't like it," he complains again, "It's like there's nothing there."

John unceremoniously flings James onto Thirteen's back and he grunts with discomfort.

"What'd you do that for?" he gripes through gritted teeth, attempting to move into a more comfortable position but failing and he winds up merely flailing his sound limbs. Rory helps him into a half sitting half lying down on his side position.

A faint roar is heard behind them.

Thirteen shifts somewhat, trying to keep him balanced. "That is our cue to get out of these tunnels. Make haste."

Not having to carry James between them, they make much better time over the rubble and uneven terrain. Rory helps hold James up. Finally, there's some light ahead, coming from above.

"Th's where I fell," James comments, flapping his hand vaguely upwards.

"This is under the main hall, 'innit?" asks John.

Thirteen confirms this. "We can't go straight up though, we'll have to go 'round into the yard, then find the side door."

"There's a side door?" John exclaims, "And it isn't bricked up?"

"Yes, through the kitchen. I apologise for the front entryway being bricked up, but I did it for your own good," he replies, sounding forlorn.

Rory furrows his brows. "Not letting us out is for our own good?"

Thirteen slows down as he climbs over the huge blocks of shattered rock. "It's not that I was keeping you in," he says as their feet touch the dead grass at the end of the damaged tunnel, "It's what I was keeping out."

A howl pierces the night air, a low fog snakes about over the brown, dry grass. Skeleton trees reach up into the sky, begging for a moon not even there. Classic haunted house.

"What time is it?" John asks.

"Time is not specific and is only relevant here. If anyone could keep good time here, it would be me, however, but it's not wonderful, unfortunately. Best I can tell you is early dinner-time, 5 o' clock PM, I'd have to say," Thirteen answers quietly.

"It's very dark," Rory states obviously.

"There are no stars, that's why."

John was about to say how "no stars" is impossible, but then the howls grow numerous and closer. James makes an unmanly whimper of pain and fear as at least half a dozen wolves come trotting up, but they stop dead in their tracks when Thirteen lets loose a roaring growl. The two groups stand frozen, the dogs' legs poised, tails stiff, ears flat, and teeth bared.

Without turning his head, Thirteen says, "You must take him and get him into the house through a front window, we won't be able to get to the side door."

Slowly, John and Rory step forward to help James off his back, carrying him to the nearest window. Thirteen stays between them and the wolves as they move, many snarls still permeating the air.

"What'll we break it with?" asks John, and Rory holds the sword up in reply. With this action, the wolves attack.

Thirteen rushes to engage them, and the sounds of a dogfight ensue. Snarling and clashing of teeth, Rory cringes, he's never heard something so terrible.

John raises the shield still on his arm to protect him and James from the flying shards. Rory covers the back of his neck, faces away, and swings the blade blindly behind him. Broken glass quickly litters the ground. Snarling and a thud is heard from behind John and James flinches.

"Look out!" cries Rory.

John turns far enough to see a wolf has broken away from fighting fighting Thirteen and is almost on top of them. There's nothing he can do whilst holding James up, so he lets go of him, practically throwing him forward. He staggers and crashes into Rory, swearing loudly.

John spins around and slams the shield into the dog's face and a satisfying crunch is heard. The edge of the shield is bent too, but that's not important.

"John!"

He turns to see Rory is holding the sword out for him to take. He takes it, despite not really knowing how to use it. Well, combat's still combat after all. He forces the memories fighting for his attention down and focuses on the current problem recovering from the heavy blow.

Whilst John and Thirteen hold them off, Rory tries to get James through the window but quickly finds that he can no longer stand on his own, let alone climb over that mess. Suddenly, there are extra hands helping him and James is dragged through rather unceremoniously.

Rory clambers over and calls back, "C'mon John!" before helping Amy move him up the stairs.

After delivering the killing blow to the creature he was fighting, he turns to retreat. But before he can make it to the window, he is tackled from behind and a heavy weight pins him to the ground. He feels the heat of the monster's breath before he realises it's biting into his shoulder. Bone grinds on bone as teeth clash with his collarbone, but he has no leverage and can't get it off.

He flails fruitlessly for a moment before the dog whistles through its nose. With a terrifying snarl from Thirteen, the beast is painfully yanked off of him, tearing its grip on his shoulder off. He scrambles to his feet and dashes for the window, glass crunching over his feet. Someone takes his arm and guides him over the window bench, through the house, up the stairs as he notices he has lost the sword and shield.

Claws clack on wood, wood splinters, snaps, a wolf falls into the darkness. There's a quiet voice saying, "Take them into the study," before someone's encouraging him to lie down on a couch and he realises they've left Thirteen behind.

As Rory removes his jacket he asks, "Where's Thirteen?"

"Who's Thirteen?" inquires a random voice.

Rory shakes his head. "I'm sure he'll be fine," he assures.

Martha shushes him and tells Rory to prepare a needle and thread. He can't really feel the pain, and he wonders how bad it is.

—————————————————————

_"Release me!" it commands._

_"I don't think so," he answers._

_"Then you shall never leave this place," it growls._

"Who are you?" asks River.

"I am the Thing in the Dark, I am your worst nightmare, the Bringer of Death, the Dest-"

"Blah, blah, blah, yeah, past all that? Who are you really?" the Caretaker demands.

"I am your enemy. Or, I could be your friend. This much is up to you, and you alone," it replies.

He scoffs. "And what good would being your friend be? You don't sound so nice."

"As a friend, you would receive power, wealth, fame."

"Typical empty promises."

It laughs. "I am not your common madman grasping for power and desperate for allies. I simply need one vessel to travel from this place. Imagine, power so immense that your name could be feared or desired throughout all of space and time."

"So just bigger empty promises, and an even more pathetic, powerless thing trying to hitch a ride out of here," he tells it.

"How could I offer you any power if I had no might of my own? Do you wish a display? Do you wish to see what I have done? What I can do? I could destroy both your minds in a single second. I could kill you right now if I wanted."

"Then go ahead!" he raises his arms from his sides, holding them out dramatically. "Let's see what you can do. It will take a lot to make me snap. I have seen things you never have seen, lost things you could never imagine. Take it all!" he lowers his arms and his voice. "If you can."

The disembodied voice laughs, a deep throated chuckle. "And what of you, woman? Do you need any form of convincing?"

She crosses her arms. "I'm just waiting for you to convince him."

It laughs louder this time before saying, "Well said. We shall see then. We shall see who gets the convincing."

Suddenly, the light leaves the room, casting them into pitch blackness.

"Do you remember how small that room was? You will find it is no longer small."

River immediately sits down where she was standing and doesn't move.

The Caretaker, however, starts yelling and moving forward.

"You're just saying that because you turned out the lights! You don't have any power to alter anything!"

A deep rumbling laugh echoes through what sounds like a cavernous space. "If that is what you wish to tell yourself."

He keeps stumbling and cursing and moving forward for he doesn't know how long without coming in contact with a wall.

"Stop!" calls River.

"I can say what I want," he yells back.

"No, I mean stop. Like, stop moving."

He stops.

"You're just going in circles. I hear you going in circles around me."

"Oh."

The air generates its own light again and the evil thing speaks. "Aww, you ruined my fun. Do you know he actually thought he was going in a straight line?"

She snickers.

"Oi!" he scolds indignantly, "I knew you were just playing cheap tricks."

"Cheap tricks indeed," it agrees, "Always start small and work your way up."

"Not going to kill us then? That might be boring," states River in a bored tone.

"No. Not yet, that would be rather dreary now, wouldn't it?"

"Not going to kill us at all," he snarks.

There's no pause. "Who dies is entirely up to you, I only need one host."

The host comment worries Theta.

"If I had a gun," River mumbles.

"What would you do? Shoot the shadows? You can't kill a shadow."

"It'd make me feel better."

Suddenly, there is no more light again.

Out of the dark, a voice calls, sounding different to the one they heard earlier. It sounds deeper, lethargic, sophisticated. Unlike the rasping, ancient voice of the Thing in the Dark.

"What is the melody of the forest if there is no river?"

"We're not in a forest," says River.

Suddenly, exotic birdsong fills the air, trees and shrubbery grow up around them in a glowing, golden light, bugs crawl amongst the dead leaves and the smell of pine and oak fills the air.

"Tell me, where would creatures find their water if there was no river?"

"A pond," she replies, the word coming to mind at random. A subconscious thing, probably, from hearing Amy Pond's name recently. She looks around and discovers that she is alone. The Caretaker is gone.

Unbeknownst to her, the Caretaker is standing nearby, but has been made invisible and mute to her, separated by an invisible force.

"Are we doing riddles now?" she asks incredulously.

"No. Just a setting, but if you would like riddles, I can give you some. Answer me ten simple riddles, and I will call off the beasts."

Suddenly, creatures of all kinds peer out from the trees and her feet become wet. She looks down and sees she's standing in a shallow pond. _They're all coming here for water,_ she thinks, _and I'm in the way._ She finds she can't move from the spot, and her machete has disappeared.

"Alright," she calls out, "Let's see what you can do."

"You may only get three wrong, let us begin," it pauses, humming in contemplation. "What belongs to you, but other people use it more than you?"

River ponders this carefully, trying out answers in her head before thinking about answering. Finally, she tosses out her answer, recently thinking of names. "Your name," she tells it.

"Very good!"

Creatures in the brush growl and bark, snarl and hiss, eager to move forward, but are kept at bay.

"A rooster lays an egg on a roof slanting north and south, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Which way does the egg roll?" he inquires quickly.

What? How does the sun rising or setting have anything to do with the egg rolling? And if it rolled north or south, it's a fifty-fifty guess as to which way. She plays the line over and over in her head before she finally realises the riddle. "Roosters don't lay eggs," she tells it confidently.

She can hear the smile in its voice as it says, "Good." There's a pause before it continues. "What grows when it eats, but dies when it drinks?"

Food and water. She can name a number of animals that don't actually drink water, but again, it would be a guessing game. She crosses animals out, riddles are not guessing games. She realises she's been thinking to long when the thing speaks.

"Should I set a time limit?"

"You never said anything about time limits before we started, you can't add them now," she challenges.

It concedes, "To fuel the spirit of fairness, I will refrain from making such alterations."

She nods. Odd word choice. Fuel. Fuel! It eats to grow, but can't take any water. "Fire!" she exclaims, "That's the answer to the riddle, fire."

It hums in agreement and forges onward. "The man who invented me doesn't want me. The man who bought me doesn't need me. The man who needs me doesn't know it. What am I?"

Inventions. Seems a tough category for her, as she's into history. However, it's still about want and need, so it must be something important, but not entirely vital. Or maybe it's only important to certain people, seemingly without them knowing they need it.

"A cure," she states, voice more certain than she really is.

It chuckles. "A good guess, but that is incorrect. The answer is a coffin."

She curses herself internally as the creatures slink out of the foliage and stop halfway to the water's edge. Their symphony of aggressive noises doesn't cease. She doesn't let her nervousness show.

"There is a certain crime," it continues, "That if attempted, is punishable, but if it is committed, is not punishable. What is it?"

She's committed a _few_ crimes. Okay, maybe more than a few, but she's never managed to find one that wouldn't be punishable if you're caught. She can think of plenty of crimes she hasn't committed, murder and the like, that are still punishable if one is caught. After a long pause, she can't think of it.

"Stumped?"

She can't sit here stalling forever, and she feels the need to be honest.

Reluctantly, she answers, "Yes."

The feral beasts come closer, practically to the water's edge, but not into it. She's still an offending thing, they can't drink until she's no longer a threat. Only through five and she's already got two wrong.

"The answer is suicide."

She huffs in the general direction of the voice.

"Careful with this next one," it taunts.

She listens intently.

"I follow you wherever you go, but the more of me you take, the more of me you leave behind."

She irritated by this point, but carefully dissects the given problem in her head. Following, but taking and leaving behind? It makes no sense. All of his riddles have been literal for the most part, and she wonders if this one is too, or if it's become metaphorical.

She thinks for a long time and it hums happily, much to her chagrin.

She can't, she realises. She can't figure it out. It realises this too, without her even saying, and answers the question.

"The answer is footsteps."

She barely has time to register her defeat before the terrible animals descend on her.

—————————————————————

He figures out the riddles, yells the answers but she can't hear. He watches as the monsters get closer to her, but he's helpless to do anything but push against the invisible barrier. It gives no leeway as she answers another one incorrectly, as he sees them move to the water's edge.

"Stop!" Theta yells, "I'll help you, just stop! Please!"

He is ignored, however, and he watches in horror as the woman known as River Song in torn apart in front of him.

—————————————————————

**River Song: Deceased**  
Torn apart by ravenous animals  
Second Elimination. Rest in Peace

A woman on duty sees the change in the leader board before grabbing the radio speaking into it.

"Contestants, another rival has lost the game. Good luck to the remaining eight."

The House hears the call, sounds the horn for their attention, and relays the message to those who remain.

-•———————————————————————————————•-

**END NOTES**

The last riddle is paraphrased from one of my favourite riddles found in _Spyro: Year of the Dragon_ , one of my favourite games even to this day, despite being a Playstation game. That is saying something, as we're on to Playstation 4s now. 


	7. Schizophrenia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger arises again and we get a unique perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god that I finally could finish this chapter. I am so sorry for that... Like... Month long wait. I know, I really suck sometimes.
> 
> I accidentally posted this chapter twice... Not sure why, but I deleted the copy. Whoops, sorry.

_"Stop!" Theta yells, "I'll help you, just stop! Please!"_

_He is ignored, however, and he watches in horror as the woman known as River Song in torn apart in front of him._

Cruel laughter fills the air and he slides down the invisible barrier and collapses on the ground. Another he's failed to save. He yells and pounds his fist on the clear wall before it suddenly dissipates and he falls onto his side, right onto his injured arm. He yells in pain and scrambles to get his weight off it.

The laughter dies down.

He looks around. The forest, the water, the monsters, and River's mangled body are gone. He's alone in the dark, and a faint light emanates from a distance.

"Tell me, are you convinced?"

"You didn't have to kill her!" he yells towards the darkened air above him.

"Maybe, but you might not have been made aware of my seriousness. I require a host, and you are suitable."

He growls in rage. "You didn't have to kill her! What do you expect to do now? You don't have any leverage."

"No leverage?" it asks, voice dripping in condescension, "I have come to understand you have a certain degree of fondness for Miss Rose Tyler?"

He freezes in despair. He can't let someone else die, he just can't. Especially not her. Why he cares so much, he doesn't know. There's a pause. Finally he asks, "What do you need?"

The voice sounds pleased as it hums, "Good."

"What do you need?" he yells, his fury undying.

"I need for you to calm yourself, first of all."

"Calm?" he rises from the ground. "You want me to calm down? You just murdered an innocent woman!"

"Innocent? You believe she was innocent?" it chuckles. "You know nothing of her past. She is a wanted criminal in over thirty countries! Thirteen death sentences! You would call this innocent? I merely carried out a punishment required by hundreds of laws."

"You had no right!" he retorts.

"I had every right!" it roars, "This is my land, my house, I control it, I _am_ it. Your very presence violates the law of this land, punishable by death."

"Then why don't you kill me?"

It growls once more. "You have been told why, and you _will_ cooperate."

"What do you want from me?"

"You will be my backup plan. While you are suitable, you are not the finest host here. You will wait," it tells him.

"Backup plan? What do you mean, backup plan?" he demands, "How am I not the best?"

"You are just not. The finest hosts... There are three," it replies mysteriously.

"Who are they?" he asks, voice lowering.

"Are you sure you wish to know?"

He nods. "Yes."

"Donna Noble, James McCrimmon, and Rose Tyler."

He hangs his head and slowly lowers himself to the ground. "Please don't hurt anyone. Please don't hurt her."

It does not respond.

—————————————————————

_"James!" Rose yells again._

_No response._

_She face-desks the floor, and the boards creak. Her head snaps up and she quickly retreats before it gives way._

_A foghorn-like noise sounds through the house, not too loud, but enough to be easily heard._

_They listen intently as an announcement begins, announcing someone's death._

"Is he dead?" cries a panicked Donna.

"It doesn't say who died! Anyone could have just died, that's not fair! How are we supposed to know?" Amy yells at no one in particular.

"Stay calm," says Martha, trying to soothe them both.

"How can I stay calm?" Amy continues yelling. "This place is horrible, I can't deal with this anymore!"

Rose shakes her head. "Well, panicking won't help."

Suddenly, she stiffens. "Where's Clara?"

"What?" bodies are brought to attention.

"She would've heard that, where is she?" she asks again. Everyone stops, their hearts racing.

"Upstairs," says Donna, and they all take off, Rose leading the way up the stairs.

"Last I saw her she was sleeping in the study," she calls and Rose takes a right.

They find the study empty.

"Maybe she went to sleep in one of the beds."

They group follows her across the hall and they pour into the room. Upon spotting Clara, Martha rushes forward to check her vitals.

After a moment, she looks up toward them, shaking her head. Amy stands frozen, covering her mouth in horror and Donna leaves the room. Rose spots a strange coil of... something... on the floor. She moves over and crouches next to it.

"What's that?" Martha asks quietly.

"A snake, I think," Rose replies.

"Well, stay back!" he scolds.

"I think it's dead." Its small forked tongue hangs unnaturally from a slightly open mouth, and its body is coiled and bent in an unlikely position. She gingerly takes hold of the tip of its tail and lifts it. "It's stiff, it must have died shortly after we left for downstairs." she tells them.

Amy finally speaks. "How'd it die? How'd she die?"

Rose shakes her head. "Not sure."

Martha lays Clara's hands over her abdomen, closes her eyes, and lays a dark green silken sheet over her. "I think it bit her, must have been very poisonous," she deduces from the lack of wounds except a bite mark on her hand. "Maybe she killed it after she was bitten. Doesn't look like she even had a chance to get help."

"Looks like it's been crushed," she tells them after examining the creature's neck and head.

"Do you think... Do you think she was the one that call was about?"

"Who else could it be?" asks Donna.

"Wait!" cries Rose, hopping up from her crouched position, "That means James could still be alive!"

As she makes to run from the room, Martha places a hand on her shoulder.

"We have no idea where he is, there's not much we can do."

She slouches against the wall and covers her face with her hands. Nobody moves. Finally she sighs just as someone's stomach rumbles.

Martha frowns and places a hand on her belly. "Sorry," she whispers.

Rose shakes her head in a noncommittal manner. "We haven't eaten in a while," she says, "If any of you have appetites, we should all eat."

"How can you suggest that now?" yells Amy.

Rose shakes her head. "I'm not feeling so well maybe." She leaves the room.

Amy follows her, still looking a little shell-shocked.

~~~~

Everyone convenes downstairs to find that the food on the table has been changed and their scraps cleaned up.

"Did someone change this?" Martha asks.

"Must've," replies Rose without enthusiasm.

Amy still seems too shocked to say anything, and sits numbly next to Martha. Martha begins breaking off pieces of bread from a loaf and handing them to her, which she accepts and slowly chews.

All of the food still seems to be very healthy, with fruit, veg, strips of dried meat, jugs of water. A bottle of wine sits at each end of the table. The candlesticks along the centre have been changed from green to red, and little trails of wax run down them.

Rose idly eats things and Donna sits without touching the food. They eat for some time until they feel they shouldn't eat anymore. Having their stomachs too full might inhibit their ability to run. In this situation, that could be bad.

A howl sounds outside and they're all brought to attention. A roaring growl, loud and close, causes them to stand. Rose quickly moves over to the main room, crouching out of habit as she moves closer to the broken brick wall, mindful of the edges. She hears muttering outside, rustling of grass. Then glass breaks in the next room over and she runs back in.

—————————————————————

Somehow, just when Donna Noble's day couldn't he gotten any worse, she blacked out and woke up here. No idea as to how, but it was rubbish. Absolute rubbish. Then, stuck in this place with a bunch of strangers, some of them completely mad, she thought that this is it, this is the limit. Then there were monsters and people dying, and she had just about reached her tolerance level.

Then the window gets smashed in and that's enough. She will slap the next evil thing she sees right into next week, and when she gets there, she'll slap it silly again.

So, when a wolf follows in the wake of the injured train of people, she picks up the nearest book and smacks it in the face.

When the window broke, she and a couple others rushed forward to meet what was trying to get in. Donna didn't like what she saw. A huge... she can only describe it as a shadow the size of a horse, is fighting a group of large dogs. John is fighting another. Amy is called over and they help an injured James and an exhausted Rory over and through the window. Martha and Amy carry James, and Rose helps Rory.

Donna, however, watches in horror as a monster pins John down and bites him. It certainly looked like a lethal blow, but it must have missed because he begins flailing. Luckily for him, the shadow seems to be on their side, and yanks the beast off him.

She helps him through the window, and finds he can walk just fine. Good, she doesn't want to have to carry anyone, not to be insensitive or anything, but still. Even better when she hears claws clicking on the wood behind them. So she seizes a book (an old biology textbook) and spins around. She waits as it charges, then hits it it square in the face. It staggers to the side over the delicate part of the floor.

Suddenly, it freezes, as if sensing the dangerous position it is in. Before it even takes a step, the floor cracks underneath it and it falls into darkness. The sounds of fighting outside don't cease, but Donna's not going to wait around for them to do so. She high-tails it up the stairs after the group.

—————————————————————

James is trying hard to be quiet, but he can't keep sounds of pain from escaping and tears are streaming down his face by the time they get him upstairs.

Rose moves ahead and they turn the corner towards the study. She opens the door for them and they enter. Books are cleared off the desk with the swipe of an arm, thudding onto the floor, and James is deposited onto it. John is laid down on the couch.

When Donna enters the room, she searches around for something she thought she saw earlier. She sifts through all the drawers of the desk, and upon opening the last and lowest drawer, she finds a first aid kit. She passes it to Martha who looks through it as Amy tries to soothe James. Rory helps Martha sort through the kit.

"Rory, prepare a needle and thread," orders Martha, who is focusing on John.

Using the rubbing alcohol, he cleans the thread and a surgical needle. He then carefully pulls the torn jumper away from the wound. He tears it more accidentally.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Martha takes the needle and carefully sews the gashes in his shoulder caused by the fangs of the monster outside. He hisses as the cool, sterilised needle pierces his skin. When that is done, Martha turns his attention to James while Rory finishes cleaning John up.

"Can we splint his leg? I don't see anything we can use," she asks.

Despite Rory's protests, John rises from the couch and moves around it towards the walls, knocks on them. They sound hollow so he begins kicking the panels. He kicks through them and pulls some off. They're not very thick, but they're stiff and it's the best they have, so Rory takes them without complaint.

John stands in the corner for an awkward moment before sliding out of the room, ignoring the throbbing of his neck wound since it doesn't seem to be bleeding. James needs the immediate care. He crosses the hall to find out why they didn't use the bedroom, as it may have been better.

"You might not like what you find in there," says Rose.

He jumps at the sudden noise behind him. "What?" he asks grumpily.

She tilts her head in the bedroom's direction wordlessly and he enters the room. "What's so important?" he asks, prompting Rose to enter the room after him.

"What do you mean what's so-" she begins to scold but stops as she looks around. "What the hell?"

"Like I said, what's so important?"

"Clara died, right there on that bed! We left her body there covered up, she was poisoned by some snake-like thing. Where's her body?"

"Has anyone come in? Or anything?"

"We weren't up here the whole time, but we would've seen someone going up or coming down. There aren't any other stairs."

"No secret passages anywhere?" he inquires incredulously.

She sighs. "Maybe."

They leave the room as a cabinet in the room opposite creaks slowly shut.

Back in the study however, James is biting on a small paperback so hard he could leave his teeth stuck in it when he's done, if it ever ends. Martha's splinting his leg while Rory swabs the large cuts on his face with alcohol. His growling and yelling is somewhat restrained and muffled by the book shoved in his mouth. Rose moves over to him, standing at the end of the desk, and begins softly running her fingers through his hair.

He tries to control his rapid breathing by focusing on the sensation of her fingers softly scraping his scalp. He'd smile at it, but it's hard to ignore the pain. Besides, he also has the spine of a book in his face. He closes his eyes and does his best to enjoy the ticklish, tingly feeling. Suddenly, he realises someone is speaking to him and does his best to listen.

"-eep your eyes open, James," the voice orders gently.

"Hnnng?" he asks.

"Try and keep your eyes open," says... Rory. Yeah, that's who's talking. 

"Hng," he confirms, then turns his head slightly to see Rose sitting next to the desk. He stares intently, studying every detail of her face, trying to focus on anything but the pain.

"You're doing fine," she tells him.

"HNG!" he exclaims, which was supposed to be a reply of sorts, but rather becomes a yell of pain as an alcoholic pad is applied to another wound.

—————————————————————

The last of the wolves, torn apart. A shame, they were one of the more fearsome creatures. Poisonous too. That one got a good bite out of John. He's probably going to die. Another shame, he's very strong. Such a waste.

Now he wonders, should he join them in the house? He might act as a guardian against the more evil entities. That's all he needs, to protect them, gain their trust. Getting out of here, it's a competition. The wrong things must not be allowed to escape. Leaving this place will be like a complicated surgery, a lot could go sideways with devastating consequences.

He makes a decision and climbs over the wall and window seat, then takes post at the base of the stairs, first floor. There are many secret passages, he uses them himself, but the wild things don't know it, and they will enter through the only open route. If so, he will send them right back out. _Defenestrate_ them. Words. Good words.

They move about upstairs frantically, he hears them. Feels them, their pattering and stomping feet. There's some pounding as well, then it stops.

So he waits. And waits. Much time passes before he hears feet coming down the stairs. Several pairs, one labored and uneven. They are coming, but he holds his post. He can tell when they see him, for the procession stops.

"What. Is. _That?_ " demands Amy.

"Thirteen!" calls a familiar voice.

He turns to see John coming down the stairs.

"John," he says with a respectful nod, "How fare you? Your injury is not severe, is it?" Thirteen knows the extent of the injury, unlike the rest of them. He knows how bad it is, but he won't worry them.

"It's fine, I've dealt with worse," he replies noncommittally.

A couple of people follow him down the stairs and he redirects his post to the dining room. Eventually, the whole group follows. He stands resolute at the door as they sit.

Suddenly, a shadow slinks silently out of the kitchen, pushing the swinging door open as it goes. It swings back into place as it fully exits. Long and relatively flat, it slides past them as they stay frozen in place. Ignoring them, it slithers up onto the table, covering the width of it. John removes his hands from the surface of it as it slides by, seemingly picking up everything. Dishes clink together as it picks up food, rubbish, scraps, silver, bottles, placemats, and candles, leaving the table bare and polished, perfect and spotless despite the earlier scratches. It brushes by James as it climbs down, who shivers. It then slides away back through the door soundlessly.

Rose is immediately by James' side.

"Are you ok?" she asks.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. It's just-" he stops speaking.

"Just-" she prompts.

"It felt like nothing, like how that Thirteen thing felt," he gestures vaguely towards the dog shape. "I don't like it."

The door swings open again and that serpentine shadow repeats the process of climbing one end of the table and slithering over the whole length, depositing plates covered in food, candles, silverware, basically replacing everything it took with fresh things. That candles are now white, however, and give off a faint citrus blossom scent. Bacon, toast, eggs, and all kinds of breakfast foods cover it now, and the creature disappears into the kitchen again. John gets up and follows it, and Rose and Donna go after him.

Inside, they watch it visit stations all around. They watch it deposits dishes on a conveyor belt, scraps down a chute, and so on. Finally it settles in a nook in the corner, almost impossible to see.

"I feel likes it's watching us. I felt that when I came in here before," says Donna.

John goes over to the corner. "Can you talk?" he asks him.

He lifts one end of its body and shakes it, indicating a no. He then extends outward and taps a small engraved piece of metal on the wall, quickly retreating to its spot again.

"A bullet list?" John asks incredulously, then reads it aloud. "One, avoid eating anything not cooked by me, it could be dangerous. Two, be sure to eat plenty, there will always be enough. Three, allow me to clean up after you. Four, don't go into the meat locker, it cannot be opened from the inside. Five, the side door is for emergencies only, make sure it stays locked otherwise." He looks up to said side door, which is bolted and barred from the inside. He shrugs and continues. "Six, never leave stoves or sinks running if you use them. Seven, leave dirty dishes on the conveyor belt. Et cetera, just basic kitchen instructions from then on."

He turns towards the him again and he looks at him. Well, it moves one end so that it points at him anyways.

"Is your only job to cook?" he asks.

He nods.

"Can you do anything else?"

It shakes its head.

"Are you related to Thirteen?" he inquires.

The shadow doesn't move for a moment. Finally, he nods. John nods back then walks away, obviously done interrogating him. He relaxes back into his corner.

They rejoin the others in the dining room.

"Please, eat," Thirteen requests, slightly amused by John's interrogation of one if his extensions, "You will need your strength."

"Why do you care?" demands Rose harshly.

"The thing is-" starts Rory, but she silences him with a wave of a hand.

"It can answer me," she says.

"He," pitches in John before he falls silent.

"This place in very unnatural, and has strange effects because of it. It will literally drain the energy from you, you must eat much more often to compensate for it," he states.

"That doesn't answer my question," she says in a dangerously low voice, "Why do you care?"

"Because I am tired of seeing people die!" Thirteen growls.

A silence befalls the room.

"I have been here for almost a century and have seen this place take the lives of too many people. There are many shadows, not all of them are friendly," he sits dejectedly. "I want this to stop, I want to escape."

"So," begins James in a strained voice, interrupting their staring contest, "Not everyone is accounted for. Any idea where the others are?" he asks nobody in particular.

"Underground," answer Thirteen instantaneously.

"Where exactly?"

"The underground is extensive. I cannot give you an exact location."

James speaks, "We should-"

"Wait!" exclaims John, not wanting an expedition to be proposed, "Tell them about the plan."

A cacophony of questions fill the air before Thirteen silences them with a promise of answers.

"First of all, allow me to say, you must be willing to cooperate with me if you wish to escape here. I will not force anyone to do anything," he pauses and looks expectantly.

There are nods of agreement from a few of them and skeptical looks from others.

"Very well. I require... Er... Transport form here, I know where the exit is and we will all be able to leave," he says quickly.

"Transport?"

"A vessel. I must ride _in_ a living mind to exit here, and you cannot escape without my assistance. This host must be willing though. At anytime I could be expelled from the mind in such a weakened state and the plan would fail if that happened."

"A _vessel?_ " yells Rose and suddenly everyone's protesting or defending the idea or asking what the hell's going on. "What'd ya mean a vessel?"

Thirteen does not speak until the room falls silent once more. As it does, he stands again. "You may not like the idea, which is fine, you don't have to participate. But this, what I'm trying to do, is your only chance to escape. Otherwise you will die here. I only require one suitable host, and there are three of you."

"Which of us?" inquires Martha.

"Donna Noble, James McCrimmon, and Rose Tyler."

Amy stands and slams her palms on the table. "Is that why you're protecting us? So you can hitch a ride?"

"It not the only reason. Yes, I want to leave here, but I also want to save as many as I can."

"Why don't we go save the people in the basement then? What were their names? River and Bow Tie?" demands James with a hoarse voice. "And why me?"

"Why you? Because your mind is... made a certain way. You are intellectual, strong willed, well built, and spiritually strong. You've been possessed before as well." He rushes to clarify as James opens his mouth to protest. "Possessed by grief, and by determination. That is what makes you suitable," he explains reverently.

Then he sighs. "As for those in the basement. One is dead, and the other is as good as dead. There's nothing we can do for them."

Another silence washes over the room.

"What about me? I'm nothing special," says Donna.

"Oh, but you are! You are very unique," he exclaims, "You are strong willed as well, and your mind once held something it was never meant to hold, yet you survived. Not only that, but it made you stronger. Thus you would easily host my presence and arrive where we belong no worse for wear."

Rose looks as though she almost doesn't want to ask, but curiosity must win out, because she asks anyways. "And me?"

Thirteen stares intently for a moment. "You, Rose Marion Tyler," she stiffens at the use of her full name. "Are interesting. You've traveled farther than any human of your time. You have done magnificent things, and your abilities are beyond what you even fathom. You're empathic, you have a kind soul, you are knowledgeable and respected. We're much alike, you and I, because of this, you are the finest host here."

There's a pause. "Well?" he asks.

Finally the silence breaks again. "I'm in."


	8. Unification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry I was gone for like.... Two months? Three? See? I even lost count, but I think it was three. I'm so, SO sorry, that you missed out for so long, and I left on an awful cliffie on pretty much all of my chapter stories. Don't worry though, because I'm back for at the very least the duration of the school year. Hopefully by then I will have found a way to keep writing, because I sorely missed it over the summer. I apologize again, but my old computer finally died, and I had nothing to work with. I'm going to be publishing a lot hopefully, with this slow and awful rented iPad, love y'all!

_"I'm in."_

All heads turn to look at James and he struggles to rise from his seat. Rory, who has been sitting next to him, helps him stand. At the questioning glances thrown his way, he says, "I'm in bad shape anyways, I doubt I'll survive this ordeal."

He waits as several voices protest this statement, pausing until they've finished. "Just hear me out, this sound way too dangerous, if something goes wrong, it won't matter anyways. Like I said, I doubt I'll survive."

Rose rises from her seat. "No, I won't let you give up like this, not after everything we've suffered through here."

"Rose, this is madness anyways!" he exclaims, "why risk anyone else, you're all more likely to survive this!"

"James," Martha pitches in, "you're in no condition to exert yourself like that, and believe it or not, you're not out of this game yet. Don't give up on yourself. A broken leg won't kill you."

"In this place? It just might," he replies solemnly. Not to mention the concussion and numerous cuts and abrasions.

"But we're not staying here, right?" Rory asks, unsure but hopeful.

"I would hope not, but it's entirely up to you," mutters Thirteen, "unfortunately." He receives several scowls, but doesn't react. "However, if you both offer yourselves as hosts, the choice of who would host would come down to me. I would prefer Ms. Tyler, as she is the best choice out of the three."

Rory casts a glance at John, who has been rather quiet and finds that he's fallen asleep. He furrows his brow is concern anyways, however, because his face is almost ashen. He gets up to investigate his condition. This action is ignored in the heat of the argument.

"I won't let you!" yells James.

"You don't get to decide what I can and can't do!" Rose yells back.

He pounds his fist on the table in frustration.

"Guys," Rory says as he tries to get their attention. Martha looks over, having lost most of the interest in the argument, and rises, quickly making her way around the table to John, whom Rory can't wake up. He' still breathing strong and steady, but he has the pallour of a dying man.

Finally, Thirteen notices the problem too, and says very loudly, "Be at peace!"

The room falls silent.

Then he turns to Martha and asks, "Whatever is the matter physician?"

Martha peels back the tattered jumper to reveal a sight that looks worse than anything she's seen in a long time. The wound itself shows no signs of inflammation, but the jagged edges of the flesh have turned a ghastly shade of purple, and streaks of deep black and sickly green run through his veins and arteries away from the stitched punctures.

"I'm not entirely sure," she replies, "some kind of poisoning."

"Most likely," he affirms, "he was bitten by one of the wolves, some of them are venomous, but not all."

Martha jumps up. "Why didn't you say so before?" She shouts, but again it does not seem to affect Thirteen at all.

"Because I did not think that wolf in particular was venomous. In fact, I thought I had destroyed all the ones with a poison bite." His tail twitches slightly, as if in irritation, but without an expression to read, it's impossible to tell.

Rory tries again to wake John up, and this time he stirs.

"Tell me about the venom," demands Martha.

So Thirteen tells her. "The poison is lethal, but the effectiveness of it varies from person to person. I've seen it takes hours to start afflicting a person, yet I've also seen it kill within minutes. It is also dependent on where the bite occurred. If one was bit on the arm, the venom would take much more time to reach the vital organs, the heart, lungs, or brain." He pauses for some time before continuing, "his bite, however, is close to the vital organs, and he will most surely die. In the arm, or the leg, an amputation could save, but nothing else. There is no antidote."

John, who was awake enough to hear the last couple of sentences, swears in a strained voice. Nobody bothers to reprimand him though.

Martha closes her eyes and rubs her face with her hands, completely at a loss. Her inability to help these people is driving her barmy. She drops her hands. "What about the Caretaker and River? We still don't know where they are, we shouldn't leave without at least trying to help them."

"It is unwise," advises Thirteen, "we should begin preparations to leave immediately, before something else attacks, or another trap is sprung. If we went down into that darkness, I can assure you that not all of us would return. And for one man? It is a pointless venture."

"I've been down there," says John on a voice that had suddenly grown hoarse, "I really don't want to go down there again, even if one of them is still alive. Don't suppose it matters anymore what I want, since I'm sittin' here dyin'."

"Shush," says Donna.

"It just wouldn't be right leaving them," says Rose.

"There is only the one, and no, it is not right to leave him," affirms Thirteen, "but does this seem like a _right_ kind of place to you?"

Nobody replies.

"We must escape while we can," he says again, "make yourself ready, Rose, if you are indeed certain that will host my consciousness."

—————————————————————

In a dark and small room, Theta's arm and head throb, his shoulder thrums with pain too. There no way out and he feels short of breath.

"Ah, the time comes!"

Theta jumps to his feet as fast as his injured body will allow. "What? What's coming?"

The thing in the dark chuckles deeply before answering, "The plan. It seems you are no longer necessary. Goodbye Caretaker."

Suddenly the temperature in the room begins rising rapidly and Theta squints against the point of light forming nearby, raises his good arm to shield his eyes. _Think, think!_ He needs a way out of this, and fast, or he'll be nothing but a shadow on the wall in a matter of moments. He tries ducking into the hall to get away, but the light merely repositions itself. The heat becomes almost unbearable, his ears are ringing, eyes watering, and he can't find any escape.

He yells in frustration and kicks the stone slab that sealed them both in here to begin with. And then he gets something he did not expect, a response. Sure the response came in the form of an angry roar, but for some reason he's still glad to hear it.

The very air around him hums with energy, a low tenor kind of pitch, vibrating his very bones. There's scrabbling and scratching at the great stone blockage, followed by a round of heavy pounding. His skin is just about on fire, when all sound stops, and all he can hear is his heart pounding in his ears. Then a blast of light consumes the space and he stops thinking.

What seems like an eternity later, though, he starts thinking again. It must've only really been moments, because amongst a pile of rubble, a blobby monstrosity is clawing at its face and flailing its free arms, wandering aimlessly and hitting its head on the ceiling. He feels a thousand years old though when he struggles to rise, and he staggers around, desperately tying to keep his feet underneath him as the small, miserable, and dark world sways and shrinks away.

The awful thing in front of him seems to be calming down, however, and he is not sticking around for a meet n' greet. Trying his best, he reaches a moderate jog, and flees the small space, passing dangerously close to the monster. It does not notice him, even though he _can't_ be moving quietly at all. Until of course an evil thing says:

"Destroy him my pet, before I reconsider my sentimental action and eliminate you both!"

It roars loudly and turns all around, trying to find him by sight. The light must've been particularly bad for it though, because it looks right past him at least twice. He's almost away when it turns to its other senses. Another ear-splitting bellow, and the creature is on his tracks, albeit slowly, which is nice since Theta isn't making good time. He has little idea of where he's going until he finds himself standing at the ladder leading outside through the cellar door. The same way they came in before, straight into the graveyard.

He runs best he can towards the front of the house, hoping to evade the beast, but stops suddenly when he notices the graves. There are seven deep holes, and two fresh mounds. Seven blank grave markers. Two, not blank. He shouldn't stop to look at them, but he does, and he wishes he hadn't. His vision is clear again, but it hurts to see what he does.

_Here lies Clara Oswald_

_Almost impossibly, Oswin lost_

He missed that death, when he was sealed away underground, but the next...

_Here lies River Song_

_A riddle in and of herself_

_But unsolvable in the end_

He shuts his eyes, but instantly opens them again when images of her gruesome end flash behind his eyelids. He stays just a another moment, placing his hand on the stone. "I won't forget you," he tells it. Promises her. Then he can't stay any longer because the thing is forcing its way out of the cellar, damaging the house and its foundation once again. So he runs, because what else can he do?

—————————————————————

__

_"We must escape while we can," he says again, "Make yourself ready, Rose, if you are indeed certain that will host my consciousness."_

"Let's just get this over with," she spits out rather angrily, "what do I need to do?"

"Well," Thirteen begins, "first you must calm yourself."

Rose is just about to snipe back, but then realises he's right. She does need to calm down, she has not been acting like a team leader should, and she needs to.

James just sinks back down into his chair and buries his face in his hands, trying to ignore the pain in his body and heart. Trying to force away the memories dredged up by the shadow's words.

After a few calming breaths, Thirteen proceeds. "Good. Now open your mind, and brace yourself, for I will make a telepathic connection with you, and request permission to enter."

She closes her eyes and tries to do what he says. She feels a slight nudge at the edge of her consciousness and recoils from it. It move away and waits for her to calm down again. Finally, it nudges her once more, and she opens her mind, letting it in. Then she's frozen stiff as it eases into her thoughts, carefully avoiding a pry. Discomfort turns to distress, and then to pain, despite the gentleness of the presence. Suddenly, the pain stops, and she opens her eyes. The shadow before her is gone, but that's not the most interesting change in her view, because the whole world looks entirely different.

"Wow," she breathes out at she examines her surroundings anew. Color and detail are sharp, she can even read the titles of the books in the opposite room, something she shouldn't be able to see from here, and no part of the room is out of focus or blurry, like her eyes no longer perceive depth, only what is truly there.

Someone touches her arm, and she feels the heat, electricity, the exact amount of static charge that passes between them. When Martha speaks, asking if she's alright, she doesn't hear Martha's voice, but music in the sound that fills the otherwise still air. Practically feels the vibrations passing through space.

"Yes," she replies, "I'm more than alright." Even her own voice is different, completely lacking in either her South London accent, or her more professional tone.

She feels worry, amazement, wonder, and even some fear roll off the people around her at the rapid changes that have just occurred.

"Is this how you always see the universe?" She asks the empty space in front of her.

"What are you talking about?" asks Donna.

_And then some,_ replies a familiar deep voice in her mind. She ignores Donna.

_But let us make haste, there is trouble afoot and we must leave now!_ it warns her, and she relays the message to the others. "We need to leave," she says aloud, "now."

"Now hold on," says James, trying to get up again. Rory helps him stand, and he supports his weight by placing his hands on the table. "You do not look alright, I want to know what the hell just happened and where that shadow melted off to!"

"He's in my head, obviously," she says. Wasn't that the whole idea? "Let's go."

Quickly and obediently, she moves over to the window and climbs out, beckoning them to follow.

Everyone exchanges glances.

"I've got a feeling that this is not going to end well for more than just me," says John before struggling to his feet.

No one replies, but it's not needed. They feel it too, the finale is coming, and something will undoubtedly go wrong.


	9. Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh, it feels so good to be writing and posting once again! I've missed this story in particular. Well, here is chapter nine. There's just one more chapter and the prologue to go! It'll be the best yet. Eherm. Yes, there's a wee bit of language, but it's not severe.

_Quickly and obediently, she moves over to the window and climbs out, beckoning them to follow._

After an exchange of glances, the haggard group follows, beyond cautious. Donna, then John, quickly followed by Amy, Martha, and then Rory, who helps James over the debris. Slowly, the last two join the others on the dead grass, shoes and boots crunching over shattered glass. The torn, mangled bodies of the wolves lay scattered, gore makes the earth slick under their marching feet as the procession passes the scene of destruction, labourously making their way across the barren landscape.

The deafening silence of the nigh lifeless world around them is quickly broken, however, by the unbelievable sound of hysterical laughter in the distance. Their gazes turn, confused to hear a sound like that in a place like this, to see a figure approaching through the fog that thickens the air, makes distance seem impossibly far, and exclaim their surprise.

Before them is none other than...

"Is that the Caretaker?" asks an incredulous Amy.

Rose finally turns her attention to the newest arrival, Thirteen warning against him.

 _His mind is addled, he is contaminated, he is not to be trusted!_ Rose ignores the voice however, compassion taking over as she runs to him. _He is leading death to you! He must be sent away or destroyed!_ Rose is unbothered by the severe demands as compassion fills her. She rushes to him, followed closely by Martha.

Theta's laughs of disbelieving joy turn to sobs of relief as he staggers into Rose's arms, and she holds him whilst Martha gingerly takes his arm, rolling back his tattered, stained sleeve. Rose helps him into a sitting position, where he crosses his legs and catches his breath.

"The shadows's evil, it wants to kill us all!" He yells, eyes darting wildly from side to side.

Rose shushes him while Martha works the bandage from his arm. It's been plastered on by dried blood, and she gently wrestles with it. He doesn't notice.

Theta shakes his head. "The darkness, it's trying to get out, it has one of us, it wants me dead! It wants us all dead!"

Martha finally pulls the cloth free.

"We're too exposed," says John, "we need to move."

"What does he mean?" asks Donna, voice dubious.

James whines through his nose at John's statement, finding himself unable to carry any weight at all on his bad leg. Rory shifts his weight to better support him.

Then Martha makes a sound of aggravation, and John refutes, "What? We are!"

"Not that."

Then she moves back somewhat, to show them the Caretaker's arm. The poorly taken care of flesh is a discoloured purple hue, and streaks of black and putrid green run down to his wrist and upwards towards his elbow, disappearing under the ragged sleeve.

"That damn lying mutt!" yells Amy, who's completely had it with the shadowy mystery. "He said there weren't as many poisonous ones!"

Again a sudden unexpected sound tears through the night air, the splintering of wood. With a mighty groan the whole left side of the house, their right facing it, heaves upward and then sags again. Shingles slide from the roof and broken glass cascades to the ground. There's too much stress on the walls and too much of the foundation is missing, and it finally begins to collapse. Boards crack, fall, clatter to the ground, clay tiles shatter with a dull thud against the ground, and cracks race across the exterior, around its corners. Dead ivy strains and snaps, the dry vines unable to hold any weight.

Theta flails, trying to rise, yanking his arm from Martha's grasp and causing the gaping wound to seep black liquid and crimson blood.

She scolds, "At least let me get a real bandage on it!"

Rose helps him up, he feels surprisingly light. Hastily, he holds out his arm and Martha seizes a roll of sterile cloth from her pockets, where earlier she had stashed spare supplies. She quickly and tightly winds it around his arm whilst Theta whimpers unintelligible nonsense in pain and fear. Rose helps hold his arm still.

_Run! The beast comes, it will destroy you and it shall all be for naught!_

Rose feels Thirteen's frustration, and it threatens to overtake her own emotions. The second Martha ties the cloth tightly, Rose calls for them to run and they do so as the creature begins loping across the graveyard, through the gate, out to meet the group. The fog swirls angrily away as it heats up the air around it. John, even sweating and weak, moves to help Rory carry James once more.

 _To the wall,_ instructs the voice and Rose kills their diagonal sprint, charging straight for the foreboding concrete which towers nearly ten metres in the air.

"Now what?" calls Donna as she reaches the wall, just behind Rose.

"We're trapped here!" John yells out as he pulls James and Rory up behind Amy. Martha's guiding Theta carefully by his good arm.

The hellish monster is gaining ground on them, and it won't be long before it's on top of them.

 _"Now what?"_ she thinks.

 _You have strength, you must force the wall down!_ it calls to her in her mind.

"How do you expect me to knock this down?" she yells out loud.

The group looks at her, thoroughly confused.

"It's talking to me in my head," she tells them and they seem to understand. Sort of.

_I am with you, you have the strength to do nearly anything. Do something, or you will all perish!_

She kicks the wall in frustration, hurting her foot... but also hurting the wall. There's a little crater where she hit it, and small cracks web away from it.

She moves forward once more and places her hands on the wall, feeling it. She pushes lightly, nothing happens. She digs her feet in and pushes hard. Moments pass as she struggles against its unmoving force and the people behind her are yelling, giving warnings to each other as the Beast behind them charges, inquiries as to what she is doing. Just as she's about to give up, she hears a loud snap. The dirt beneath her feet keeps giving way, digging trenches in the ground, but the barrier before her begins cracking under her hands, crevices running along its surface.

A thick fracture runs from the very top to the filthy ground from each of her hands as she continues to push on it, every fiber of her being straining.

 _Get out of the way!_ it warns.

She turns to see that the Beast is charging straight for her.

"Get out of the way, Rose!" John calls.

She stands still and waits until the last moment before diving to the side. The creature rams directly into the concrete and it shatters with a deafening boom, the pieces collapsing on top of it. It screams and roars in rage as it falls forward, the chunks raining down on it, and suddenly the sounds die out. The unearthly silence resumes, only interrupted by the occasional crack of stone breaking away, colliding with the ground around them. In the mayhem, they didn't even hear the house fall, it's entire left side a heap of rubble, the rest fallen away into the rooms and tunnels beneath it.

She feels/hears/whatever (she's still not sure how that works) Thirteen grumbling unhappily in her mind but pays no attention.

She carefully approaches, climbing over the rubble, whilst voices warn her to be careful.

"It's fine," she calls back to them, "its head has been crushed by a rock."

They move forward, James still receiving support and trying to calm his ragged, pained breathing. Now Amy helps carry him, as John can no longer help hold him up, he's so tired.

They see the Beast's head, broken and mashed under the stone, shuddering at the mess of a gruesome sight.

"Which way?" asks Amy, sounding utterly exhausted.

 _Turn slightly to your left_ , it advises.

She begins turning slowly.

 _Stop_ , it commands. _Now walk in a straight line until I say to stop. Make haste!_

"This way," she tells them softly, and begins walking. They follow without comment, no one daring to interrupt the soundless, eternal night stretched out before them.

The space behind the wall quickly turns into a forest, pine and spruce tangle with dry shrubs and creeping vines. Most of the trees are bare, but some still hold dead leaves, old evidence of life once lived littering the ground. The leaves crunch underneath their feet without making sound.

_Stop._

She stops. Someone bumps into her, mumbles an apology. She can hardly hear it over the ringing that's begun in her ears. Her head spins, her vision blurs, and her thoughts keep falling apart in her mind.

A hand grips her arm, she thinks she was falling.

"Rose?"

Then the world goes black.

—————————————————————

John, luckily right behind her, watches in horror as her eyes roll back, but catches her before she falls. Slowly, carefully, he lays her down. Martha rushes up to her to examine her vitals, and John steps back enough to give her room, uncharacteristically praying she'll be alright. Checking her pulse, feeling for her breath, listening to her heart, Martha determines she is merely unconscious.

"She must've fainted, and I hope that's all it is," she tells the group, then says, "we should rest."

Everyone wholeheartedly agrees, immediately sitting down. Rory and Amy lower James to the ground.

The Caretaker collapses onto his good side, panting, and lays his left arm across his waist.

Now having some time, and assuring herself that Rose will be fine, she moves over to care for Theta's wound less hastily. She walks over and kneels.

"Let me take off your coat," she says gently.

He shakes his head, rubbing dirt and dried plant matter into his hair.

"I have to look at your injury."

He just shakes his head again and moans.

"Rory," she calls. He looks up. "Help?"

Nodding, he rises and moves to assist. Between the two of them, they manage to take off his tweed jacket, and Rory folds it. Then he places it under Theta's head to act as a pillow.

She gingerly pulls at his ruined sleeve so she can examine the streaks of colour running from under the cotton wrapping, but can't see where it ends.

"Help me get his shirt off," she says to Rory, and after she moves his braces, he unbuttons it and pulls it off, not caring when the cloth tears, stripping him to the waist.

Amy, Donna, and John, who had been watching, all react in horror. John closes his eyes and turns away, fighting memories of violence and the wounds he had witnessed in battle. Amy lets out a small shriek, covering her mouth and staring in shock. Donna whimpers and turns away, moving to sit by James, who automatically wraps an arm around her protectively. He sees it too now, and wishes he didn't.

The streaks of green and black run from his arm, all the way past his shoulder, beginning to crawl up his neck and across his chest, his skin around them a darker shade than the rest of his body. Theta's breaths come in strangled gasps and his eyes are squeezed shut.

She's at a loss, because there's nothing she can do, there's no one she can ask, there's nowhere to turn to. She brushes the hair back from his forehead, noticing how he's burning up, and whispers soothingly to him.

—————————————————————

When Rose wakes, it isn't because someone's calling her name or shaking her shoulder. It's because something's tickling her right palm. Odd, because her hand is touching the ground. She suddenly digs her fingers into the ground and sits up, trapping a wriggling thing between her hand and the soil. She opens her eyes slowly.

"Rose! Thank the stars, you're 'wake!" a familiar voice, like song, spills out into the empty air, "we've been sitting here for 'while now."

She turns to see John, hand placed on her shoulder. She examines what's left of their ragtag group. Herself, John, wounded and pale but still going, Rory, sitting next to a haggard looking James, whose hair no longer sticks up but lays flat against his head, sorrowful. There's Amy, looking frightened but defiant, and Donna, who also sits by James. He's got his arm around her, and her face is hidden in his shoulder. Martha stands alone, staring at the starless sky.

Someone's missing.

"Where's the Ca-" her voice stops suddenly as she looks again at John's face, it's pained, but not just from the bite on his shoulder.

"Rose," he takes a deep breath.

This is a pain she knows too well, and she knows what he's going to say.

"The Caretaker is dead."


	10. The Great Escape

_Someone's missing._

_"Where's the Ca-" her voice stops suddenly as she looks again at John's face, it's pained, but not just from the bite on his shoulder._

_"Rose," he takes a deep breath._

_This is a pain she knows too well, and she knows what he's going to say._

_"The Caretaker is dead."_

The thing under her palm resumes its wiggling, but she continues to ignore it for just a moment longer. "How?"

"Poison," says John, frowning deeply, "one of the wolves had bit him."

She curses under her breath and tries to push the image of Theta's face from her mind. So kind, young, pained. Those eyes which held more experience than they should have, closed, lifeless, gone. She turns her focus to the thing trapped under her hand, forcing herself away from the thoughts. Slowly, she curls her fingers through the soil, scooping up dirt along with whatever it is. It ceases its movement, and she holds her other hand over it before carefully opening her right, ready to catch it if it tries to flee.

"What's tha' then?" asks John.

She gets a good look at it. "`S a lizard," she tells him. She feels Thirteen's surprise at this discovery. _What in the name of eternity is that doing here?_ he asks in wonder, _Everything out here should be dead._

Should be?

John's face is beyond confused. "Wha'?"

She holds out her hands to show him, and it cocks its head to the side, blank eye staring up at him, body poised to leap away. The little bones of its ribs are prominent as it breathes, and it looks thin and sickly.

He reaches out, as if to touch it and it scampers away, quick as lighting up her arm, flinging dirt from her palm. It scurries up her upper arm and she slaps at it with her left hand, trying to catch it again, but it disappears under her shirt sleeve and stops.

_Never mind it, we must be going now. This universe is falling apart!_

"Shut up," she says aloud, startling everyone.

"Are you alright, Rose?" asks James, one of the few left not zoned out completely.

She nods wordlessly, trying to reach under her sleeve to snatch the little reptile, leaving the group looking unconvinced. It scurries up onto her shoulder. She tries again in vain to pick it out of her shirt, but it skitters around onto the back of her neck above the collar, only succeeding in making her itchy. She decides to ignore it for now.

Scratching her shoulder, she gets up shakily. John wraps a hand around her left arm to help hold her steady.

The entity in her mind is beginning to feel increasingly hostile and impatient, eager to escape. To point where it'd the others behind. _We're not leaving them!_ she cries out in her mind, trying desperately to push back the overwhelming force.

Thirteen merely says: _Go._

An intense flash a pain hits her, doubling her over, light searing behind her eyes and she squeezes them shut, but it only makes the light brighter.

"Rose!" cries John, and the group snaps out of their collective lethargy, those not standing struggling to their feet.

With a thunderous _crack!_ the very air in front of them shimmers, splits, warps the space within and around it. The sound, rather than fading, grows louder as the split in space grows wider. The ground rumbles, unstable and disintegrating. They watch in horror as past the tear, the land and trees and dead scrub falls away into nothingness. The nothingness crawls toward them diligently. The divide in front of them opens too slowly.

"Make it go faster!" yells Amy as they battle furiously to keep their footing, her and Rory supporting James. He cringes and grinds his teeth, every shudder of the ground sending jolts of pain up his bad leg. Rose manages to straighten up, the pain not lessening at all. Somewhere in the distance, an alarm rings furiously with an unknown warning, hardly heard above the ear-splitting roar of the divide in reality.

 _Stand your ground!_ calls a deep voice in Rose's head, she can barely tell what direction it's coming from. The lizard has long since scrambled back onto her shoulder, hiding under her shirt again.

The edge of the abyss is barely five metres from them when the hole is deemed wide enough by Thirteen, and he orders them through.

"Go, go!" yells Rose above the deafening noise, waving her hand towards the gap.

There's only a second of hesitation before John runs forward and jumps through. Martha ushers James and the others in front of her, and, moving sideways, they climb through. The void is not even three metres from the gate when Martha goes through, followed closely by Donna.

Rose turns towards where they came from, and gives those lost a final salute with a promise not to forget them.

 _Go! Now!_ Thirteen cries in her mind, frantic, fearful of the approaching night.

The ground is practically falling from under her when Rose turns, steps forward, and leaps through the gap, falling into utter darkness.

—————————————————————

Darkness seems to be a theme. The darkness now is so complete, so soundless, so timeless. She can't remember what the light is like, she can't remember colour, she can't remember what another person looks like, what _she_ looks like. She opens her mouth to scream, and she can't feel it, can't hear it. She's being stretched across space and time, every atom of her being light years apart from each other.

Then suddenly she's being compressed into too small of a space. Crushed into nothing, funnelled through an impossibly small tunnel. 

Then there was light.

Behind her tightly shut eyelids, red pulses, flashes.

And there was feeling.

Her feet connect with a hard surface, she takes a step to keep her balance, maintains it, stands still.

There was sound, too.

Alarms blare, a garbled voice over a loudspeaker system barks orders. Men yell, boots stomp, weapons prime.

She opens her eyes, finding herself standing in a circle of survivors, and a ring of men in uniforms of black, faces covered, weapons aimed at them all.

"Freeze!"

The group, exhausted and injured as they are, stand, to the best of their ability, stock still, muscles trembling with exertion. The sirens stop, but red lights still flash in the corridors and the room they're in. It's a small room, all concrete, full of wooden crates and metal drums.

"Hold your fire!" calls an authoritative voice from behind the formation. They part just enough for a _incredibly_ handsome man to enter the circle. Tall, dark haired, blue eyed, with a smile full of the whitest teeth Rose has ever seen, magnificent great coat sweeping dramatically behind him, almost as dramatic as James' swirling duster. He strides amongst the group like he owns the world, grinning like they're all the best of friends.

Then he stops and says, "Captain Jack Harkness, head of security," he looks at all of them carefully, grin slowly disappearing, eyes becoming deathly serious. "And none of you belong here."

"We didn't belong there either," mutters John.

"Shut yer gob!" yells one of the men, stepping forward to hit him with the butt of his rifle.

John expertly sidesteps, grabs the stock of the gun with his left hand, and twists it forcefully, eliciting a grunt of pain from them both. The gun is pulled free of his opponents grasp, starting a round of yelling from everyone as John knees him and pushes him away with his free arm.

In the confusion made by the racket, Jack yells, "Now!" and several of the men turn on their own, knocking them to the ground, rendering them unconscious and disarming them. In less than a minute, only the seven of them, Jack, and six soldiers remain standing.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Rory sort of demands.

"We've been scheming to shut this place down. Your arrival kind of rushed the plan," says Jack as some of the men pull off their masks and helmets. They handcuff the unconscious guards, leaving them where they lie, and hide the guns in an empty crate.

"Can I sit down?" asks James quietly.

"For a few minutes, but then we need to get out of here," says one of the soldiers.

Rory and Amy settle James on a nearby unmarked shipping crate. He sighs gratefully.

A lot of them settle in and introductions are made, but Rose only remembers a few of the names, like Owen, a snarky, arrogant bloke whom she instantly dislikes, a soft-spoken Welshman by the name of Ianto, and a guy named Mike.

"Bring us into this scheme off yours," says Rose, who has kept a gun for herself.

"First, some background," Ianto starts, "We first noticed this place because the engines they use, 'world gate generators' they're called, consistently damage the fabric of reality. We found a very threatening space-time anomaly here nearly a year ago, and have spent the time discovering its cause then infiltrating the facility. Once in, we managed to set up a network and pull together enough support to close this place up. It involves sabotaging one of the generators, causing it to overload, and activating the evacuation alarm. The majority of the people will immediately follow evacuation procedures, leaving most of the building clear." He stands calmly, gathering up his weaponry. "Then we set off timed charges in the armoury, electrical maintenance, and two of the three security offices. The amount of malfunctions caused by electrical failure should get everyone to complete evacuations. We use the third security room to seal the place up against anyone returning, and we get out, leaving the one engine to destroy itself and the others in a controlled, fail-safe implosion. There are teams hidden outside, waiting to arrest those who get out."

This gets murmurs of approval.

"What about these people?" asks Martha, gesturing to those who are unconscious.

"We'll ring someone to pick 'em up when we leave," says Owen.

Jack nods pulls a mobile from him belt, hits a button and puts it to his ear. "Tosh? It's me, Jack. Things are a bit hurried, it's time." He listens to a reply, then rings off puts the mobile away. "Everybody, break time's over," this inspires more than a few groans, "Up and at 'em, we're gonna have company."

Somehow he made this sound more like innuendo than an actual warning.

Suddenly, a new alarm sounds, this one much different, and nearly fear-inducing. It starts low, then raises several notes before dropping again, lasting about 8 seconds. There's a couple seconds silence, broken by harsh beeping, then it repeats.

"Get up! Go," commands Mike, shooing Rory and Amy and propping James between him and one of his mates, leaving their guns slung at their sides.

They leave the room, traveling at a swift pace despite injury and weakness. Adrenaline fills each of them, leaving them alert, prepared for the final push to freedom. Down a long corridor lined with doors, all thick metal, labeled in yellow paint. Suddenly, Jack signals for them to stop. "Ianto, Owen, with me. The rest of you lay low."

They round a corner and disappear. Minutes pass, filled only with the ringing sound of alarms.

Rose's headache is beginning again, and she feels Thirteen writhing in his place, wanting badly to expand throughout her mind at the cost of her sanity and control. It worries her, the impatience radiating from the entity, it more than worries her, and she reminds him of his place forcefully. A mental hiss is the only response, but then Jack is back and she needs to turn the majority of her attention away again.

"Everybody, in!" He orders, ushering them all into a cavernous room filled to the brim with machinery.

Ianto and Owen are working furiously with one of the five larger machinations that dominate the room, typing on a keyboard, meddling with wires, passing hushed comments between each other.

"How much longer?" Jack demands, approaching them.

"Not long," is the reply.

Suddenly, there's yelling outside and the shuffling of feet.

"Secure those doors! Set up a parameter, prepare for breach!" orders Jack as he turns, and men scramble to comply. He helps move desks, shelves, stacks furniture for cover whilst others work on sealing the electronic door. There's banging on the other side, men take up defensive positions.

James is sat in a corner on a rolling chair, behind a shelf packed with paper filled boxes, along with Martha, Donna, Amy, and Rory. Rory drags some more furniture over, trying to provide more protection for them. Rose and John join the group in formation around the door, weapons at the ready.

The banging stops, a moment passes, there's a loud clunk of something making contact.

"Done!" yells Owen, backing away from the engine. Ianto slaps a laptop shut, unplugs it, puts it in a bag slung over his shoulder, and moves to cover the unarmed group.

Then the entrance explodes, spraying mortar and metal shards into the room. Most of it buries itself in their cover, some bounces. A piece of shrapnel strikes one of Jack's team, and he cries out in pain. Men pour into the room.

Jack yells, "Open fire!" at the top of his lungs, and deafening gunfire ensues.

Someone screams, there's a bout of maniacal laughter cut short, glass breaks. Rose aims high, calls her target, pulls the trigger. They must not be wearing body armour, because the dark uniform is quickly stained in red. Bodies litter the floor and pile in the doorway.

 _Like fish in a barrel,_ states Thirteen, seemingly pleased by the rampant destruction.

She ignores him again, continuing to shoot for only a few seconds longer. The enemy has stopped coming.

"Reload!" calls the captain, and everyone replaces their spent magazines. Alarms continue, but they seem muted, as if it's dying out. Or maybe her ears are just used to it, or don't care after the roar of gunfire. Boots fade away, they've retreated.

"Owen, Mike, Romero, clear the hall!"

Three push past the barriers and move slowly across the open space. They move single file out into the corridor, looking both ways. Suddenly, the lights flicker off and the alarm stops. Dim emergency lights replace the stark brightness.

"Clear!"

"Let's move! We've got to get out of here, the shaped charges have gone off. You four," he gestures to a few of his men, "get to the last security room and seal this place up, then rendezvous at Omega-Charlie-Eight."

"Yessir!" The four rush from the room, leaving just Ianto, calm and collected as ever, and Mike, whose shoulder is hurt where a piece of shrapnel from the breaching charge's explosion hit him. Mike uses his good arm to help up James, and Jack comes around on James' right, propping him up and keeping his revolver drawn.

Slowly, they manage it out of the room, going as fast as they can down the endless halls again. After twenty paces and a left turn at the end of one, barred windows appear on their right, high up, signalling their proximity to the outside. Engines of vehicles are prominent through gaps and cracks in the thick glass. John observes a very large hole.

"There must've been some fightin' outside," he tells them.

"Prob'ly, I doubt the people here would've surrendered, with the barmy experiments they were doin'," gasps Mike with effort, "another left, right Cap?" he asks between breaths.

"Yeah, here."

They turn one more left, leaving the windows behind, with Amy, Rory and Ianto taking the lead, followed by James being carried by Mike and Jack, with Rose, John, Martha, and Donna behind them. Fifteen more paces and they're taking a half-flight of stairs upward into yet another endless hall lined with doors. They keep moving.

The first part of the group passes by a deeply indented doorway just before the end of the hall.

"Look out!" yells Rory, diving forward as an enemy soldier steps out from the shadows. He pushes Amy to the ground as the man's pistol discharges. Jack is the first to bring his gun up and fire. The commando's uniform is quickly coloured red and he falls to the ground, dead.

"Rory!" cries Amy, as she scrambles on the ground towards him.

Martha rushes forward to try to help him, but everyone else stays still. They see where the wounds are. He lies unmoving, and blood pools under him. Martha checks his vitals as Amy rocks him in her lap, murmuring comforts that don't reach his ears. Then Martha looks up, and shakes her head.

Jack shakes his head as well. "We need to keep moving, we're almost out of here."

"We can't leave him here!" she cries.

Strong hands are grasping her, pulling her away. "Remember him Amy, that's all we can do, now let's get out of here!"

They run down the hall several metres before coming to a large door, hanging open. Amy has silent tears streaking down her face.

"In, in!" someone's ordering and they enter a massive chamber. Consoles and machines fill it to the maximum, the centre is dominated by two long rows of low-lying computers, keyboards, odd manipulation devices covering any free surface space. Levers and dials and meters cover walls and tables, blueprints are pasted to one blank white wall. A large, blue, free-standing device sits solemnly at the end of the narrow space, opposite a door with a red EXIT sign above it.

Upon Rose's spotting of the blue... wooden box? Is it really just a box? Its door hangs open. Thirteen's reaction is immediate, he seethes and rages. _My ship! My ship! They defiled my ship! They intruded upon sacred space, my ship, my ship! Leave her be!_

"Okay, blimey. We'll leave your ship alone."

The whole group turns to her. "What?"

"Thirteen, that box is his ship, he's yellin' about it."

_She's alive, I can feel it, she's still actually alive! I must return to her._

"No, we're leavin' here. Now," she asserts.

And then the headache hit. Forget it, _headache_ doesn't even begin to cover it, her head is splitting in half. Rose bends over double. She realises, what's been really bothering her this whole time, is that something's not as it seems about Thirteen. Now she sees it. Thirteen reveals its intentions fully, she sees his whole character.

"Rose!" a northern accent, sounds familiar, she can't place it.

 _Die. Despair and die!_ Thirteen screams in her mind as he tries to wrestle control of it from her.

 _You killed them, didn't you?_ she asks the pressing darkness, _All of them, all those years._

Another voice, "What's going on?"

A growl. _Of course I did, and I killed River, and Clara, and your precious Caretaker. They died full of pain and fear, so shall you. Yield to me, and I shall make your end swift._

Despite everything, dropped to her knees, clutching her head, she laughs out loud.

 _What is it you think amusing?_ he asks, sending a spike of pain through her skull, making her ears ring.

She pulls at her hair. She responds without enthusiasm. _Lair. You're a liar. A real good one too._

A hiss is all she gets back.

"Rose, talk to me. What's happening?"

She shakes her head. "Number," is all she can say.

 _There is no Rose Tyler. She has always been a figment of your imagination. She does not exist, you are nobody,_ some nameless thing says.

Who is Rose Tyler?

"Rose, you've got to let it go, you're gonna burn!" Hands reach out to her, then fall away. Something tickles her shoulder and neck.

She doesn't have control of her voice anymore though, and something else speaks through her. "Oh, Doctor," an impossibly accent voice issues from mouth, "Your precious Rose is already gone. I am anchored in her mind too much to be dislodged, there's nothing for her to do now but die, I will take over her body. Soon, I will be able to leave this place, and join again with my ship."

Rose can't feel anything anymore, it's won completely and she sees him completely. But, she has no way of telling them how weak the dark entity still is. Then, suddenly, she feels again and reacts.

"Ow!" Rose exclaims in her own voice as she reaches up to find the cause of a sharp pinching of her ear. She grabs the small thing and it wriggles madly. It's a lizard. She brings it around in front of her face and it stills. A blank eyes stares at her, full of meaning.

"Doctor." she looks at John, letting the lizard go, free to run up her arm again.

"Rose?"

"It's not fully rooted yet. It could be forced out but..."

Someone asks, "But what?"

"It requires a host. No, you ca-"

Suddenly, her voice stops again.

Then the ancient, now obviously evil voice returns, no longer issuing from her mouth, but disembodied. How had he not realised it before? Why did he decide to trust something so randomly? Had he learned nothing? Barely keeping on his feet, he moves closer to her.

"She can't accept it, neither can you. A guilt she could not bear, would you burden her with it her entire life?" This causes a pause in the room. "Worry not, all will be well."

"Whoever you are, you stop this right now!" yells Jack furiously.

Laughter echoes all around the room. "You are too late!" the thing's voice calls from somewhere.

"My head-" starts Rose, voice weak.

John holds out his arms to her slightly, stepping forward. "C'mere."

"`S killin' me."

"I think you need a Doctor."

Taking her in his arms, he kisses her, sweetly and softly. It's the strangest sensation, kissing Rose Tyler, and he wishes he could've done it under different circumstances. He feels a weight pressing down on his mind and heart.

"No! Stop," the disembodied voice cries, "You will all perish!"

Just as suddenly as it started, it stops, and the kiss breaks.

"Doctor," mumbles Rose as she goes limp in his arms and he gently lays her down.

Then the full power of what he just took out of her hits him like a brick to the head. He staggers, falls back, hits the ground hard, all whilst the darkness he foolishly trusted screams in rage. Slowly, the world goes black.

—————————————————————

"Get into position!" calls a voice to his men.

Armoured vehicles have gathered and people are loaded onto them in handcuffs. Helicopters swoop back and forth above their heads, disturbing the otherwise still dust. Dirt is kicked up and settles on boots and uniforms. Weapons are primed, more orders given, as the main door to the concrete and steel facility is forced slowly open.

First one form exits. Then another, and another, out in single file. One is supported by another. The man in the greatcoat raises a hand.

"Stand down!"

Jack gestures to a man approaching them. "Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, U.N.I.T. commander. The Hub teamed up with U.N.I.T. to clear this place out."

"Captain. I trust the job is done."

"Yessir."

He nods curtly, the turns and waves his men away. A helicopter comes down, flinging up dirt. The group brings up their hands to protect their eyes.

"Everybody on, we're getting out of here," says Jack.

Rose, Amy, Martha, Donna, and James clamber up into the chopper with him. A second lands for Jack's men. Then they both take off, and Rose watches as the building full of horror and death shrinks in size. Suddenly, a large portion of the centre of the building collapses inward. Must've been the engine room. She looks away, searching her mind for any remnant of the evil thing that was once in it, and finds nothing. She realises the lizard is still clinging to her arm, and she shakes her head, disbelieving. She's going to have to keep this lizard. Find it a terrarium or something, feed it little crickets. It deserves crickets.

"What was that thing? Really?" Jack asks Rose.

She shakes her head, frowning. "I'm not sure entirely. It was impossible to see all of it. But it was that House. It drained the life out of every person or living thing that ever went through there. Huh, weren't any generators even, it powered everything itself off of the 'contestants' or whatever we were. It was evil though, and hated everything. Even itself."

There's a long silence, nothing more is forthcoming.

"That's it then? It's over?" Amy asks no one in particular.

"It's over," replies Jack.

"Y'know," starts Rose, looking at Jack, "We could use someone like you at Torchwood."

He smiles. "We've heard of Torchwood, done a little research. I think we might like that. We could just merge the whole Hub." His greatcoat waves wildly in the whipping wind as they fly farther from that hellhole.

She nods.

James sighs and a couple heads turn to him.

"What do we do now?" he asks, voice almost hopeless and hardly heard above the sounds of the chopper.

"Stay together," says Martha with only a slight pause, "We stay together. We stop this from ever happening again. Tell us about this Torchwood."

Rose finally smiles. "Okay."

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, just the epilogue, which is short and already written, expect it soon. This was a blast to write and I loved reading each and every review.


	11. Epilogue: Final Rankings

Doomed to haunt. I was always doomed to haunt, to be nothing but a ghost, something that creates ghouls and the bogeyman under one's bed, from the very beginning. Even that power, to create horrors and nightmares, is drained from me. It will take time to rebuild my strength, if I ever do.

I look forlornly at the Leader Board. The one thing I used to keep track of them all, projected in two worlds, now subject to and stagnant in one.

71) John Smith:

**UNDEFINED**

72) James McCrimmon:

**SURVIVED**

73) Theta Sigma:

**DECEASED**

74) Rose Tyler:

**SURVIVED**

75) Martha Jones:

**SURVIVED**  


76) Donna Noble:

**SURVIVED**  


77) Amy Pond:

**SURVIVED**  


78) Rory Williams:

**UNDEFINED**  


79) River Song:

**DECEASED**

80) Clara Oswald:

**DECEASED**

How has it come to this? I used to have power, I used to be feared, now I am nothing. I'm the scary story of a haunted place that exists only in legend and rumour. One day, though, one day, I will come back. I vow revenge, they don't even know it, but they will be wishing to die before I am free of here! But today is not that day... One day...

I sigh. Well, as best as I can will my ethereal form. I don't exactly breathe.

I was lucky though. My plan had almost failed, but I escaped, fully and truly in all my terrible greatness. Awful, though, that I don't have a host. Now, without one, I'm bound to this place the way I was bound to the House in that damned collapsing universe. Everything is not entirely lost, but it may as well be. They flew away in victory and curse them, may it not last.

My entire existence, once stretching throughout all of time and space, limitless, is now limited. This place, so carefully hidden, never to be found again. I have nothing to plan. There is no one who will be coming. I can't sense the passing of time. I'm unable to manipulate my environment. There is nothing for me. Nothing but the near-rubble atop a isolated mesa, where spiders build webs, glass from shattered windows lay scattered, old equipment rusts.

And the wind blows through the halls, sounding like the howl of a wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say other than thank you to all my readers that had to wait so long between some updates and apologize for that wait. It's all done so there's no waiting now, and thanks to all future readers as well.


End file.
